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RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 

From the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the possession of Mr. Horace Noble Pym 
of Brasted, Euglana 



Wqz HiberstDe ^literature Series 



THE RIVALS 

A COMEDY 

BY 

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
AND NOTES 

BY 

JOSEPH QUINCY ADAMS, Jr., Ph.D. 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE 
AND LITERATURE IN CORNELL UNIVERSITY 




BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
(jCfre Ktitoeipfte pte?0 Cambridge 



r.. 






COPYRIGHT, I91O, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPAKY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



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EDITOR'S PREFACE 

For the' facts of Sheridan's life I am indebted to the 
j biographies by W. Fraser Rae {Sheridan, a Biography, 2 
! vols., 1896) and Mr. Walter Sichel (Sheridan, From New 
and Original Material, 2 vols., 1909). For the text I have 
reprinted a copy of the first edition in my own possession. 
This reprint, I believe, will have some value as the first 
accurate reproduction of the edition that Sheridan himself 
prepared for the press. Since no manuscript of The Rivals 
exists, this edition is the only authentic version of the play. 
The notes are original except where explicit credit is given. 
For the frequent quotations from contemporary newspapers 
I am indebted to Rae's Sheridan/ s Plays, noiv first printed 
as he wrote them- (1902). The best annotated edition of 
Sheridan is Professor Nettleton's The Major Dramas of 
Sheridan (The Athenceum Press Series, 1906). I purposely 
refrained from consulting this edition until my own was 
ready for the press ; I was then able to add from Profes- 
sor Nettleton's work several notes, for which proper ac- 
knowledgment is made. I desire to express my gratitude 
to my colleagues, Professors James Morgan Hart, Clark S. 
Northup, and Lane Cooper, for having read in manuscript 
the Introduction. 

J. Q. Adams, Jr. 

Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y., 
January, 1910. 



INTRODUCTION 



In Sheridan's progenitors we find in ample measure 
those qualities of mind which made him illustrious in twe 
His grand- separate careers — as playwright and as parlia- 
father. mentarian. His grandfather was the Reverend 

Thomas Sheridan, D. D., of Dublin, well known to contem- 
poraries for his learning and wit, and still remembered as 
the intimate friend of Dean Swift. The latter found the 
doctor's companionship so pleasant that for some years he 
reserved for him at the Deanery a room hospitably named 
" Sheridan." His esteem for the doctor may be summed up 
by quoting the first line of one of his Latin verses : — 
Delicise Sheridan musarum, dulcis amice! 

The playwright's father, Thomas Sheridan, was likewise 
a man of great mental vigor, and of such activity as kept 
him much in the public eye. For several years he 
was conspicuous as the reform manager of the 
Theatre Royal in Dublin ; later, as an actor, he shared 
with Garrickthe applause of London playgoers; and, finally, 
he distinguished himself as a fashionable teacher of oratory, 
and a reformer of pronunciation. For a time his instruction 
was the rage among persons of rank and fortune. Mr. Sichel 
observes that " for one of his courses in 1762, no less than 
sixteen hundred subscribed at a guinea apiece, and bought 
his publications at ' half-a-guinea in boards.' " * Both Ox- 
ford and Cambridge conferred upon him honorary degrees ; 
the authorities of Edinburgh, upon his visit there, voted 
him the freedom of the city ; and the King, to further his 
plans of a great pronouncing dictionary, granted him a pen- 
sion of £200 a year. But his schemes of reforming the 
spoken language were Quixotic. Doctor Samuel Johnson, 

1 Walter Sichel, Sheridan, i, 244. 



INTRODUCTION v 

who had once been his friend, openly ridiculed his teach- 
ing of oratory, and sneered at his proposed dictionary. 

To his mother, however, more than to his father, Sheri« 
dan was indebted for his qualities of mind. She was the 
daughter of a Dublin rector, the Reverend Philip 
Chamberlaine, D. D., a man with a strong per- 
sonality and a keen sense of humor. Although her father 
forbade that she be taught the art of writing, at the age of 
fifteen she became the author of a romance, which, after 
her death, was published and adapted to the stage. When 
in 1746 the Kelly rioters wrecked the Theatre Royal in 
Dublin, she published in prose and verse warm praises of 
the conduct of Mr. Sheridan, the manager. With these Mr. 
Sheridan was so much pleased that he at once sought the 
acquaintance of his young defender, and later persuaded 
her to become his wife. She was not only skillful with her 
pen, but also beautiful in person and charming in manner, 
much admired by Doctor Johnson and by the great novelist 
Samuel Richardson. The latter, indeed, encouraged her to 
attempt a novel, The Memoirs of Miss Sidney Bidulph. 
This was published in 1761 under Richardson's patronage, 
and dedicated to him in affectionate terms. At once it "took 
the town/ 5 and within three months passed into a second 
edition. It was highly praised by Doctor Johnson; was 
enthusiastically pronounced by Charles Fox the best novel 
of the age ; and was circulated on the Continent, translated 
into French, and put with success upon the stage in Paris. 
Stimulated by this triumph, Mrs. Sheridan composed the 
following year (1762) a comedy, The Discovery, which 
Garrick accepted and produced with great applause at the 
Drury Lane Theatre. A second comedy, The Dupe, proved 
less fortunate, for it was much inferior in quality, and upon 
its presentation utterly failed. A third comedy, A Journey 
to Bath, though in parts clever, was refused by Garrick, 
and never came to the stage. Other literary labors were cut 
short by her untimely death in 1766 at the age of forty-two. 

Of such parents Richard Brinsley Sheridan was born in 
Dublin in the fall of 1751. ! He received his early educa- 

1 " The precise day, and, indeed, month ol Sheridan's birth is unas« 
certained." — Sichel, Sheridan, i, 253. 



vi INTRODUCTION 

tion from his father, and from a private school taught by 
Birth ad a near re ^ a ^ ve - At the age of eight, however, 
early he went to live in England, whither his par- 

ents, driven by pecuniary distress, had preceded 
him. At eleven he was sent to the fashionable school of 
Harrow, where he lived seven years, a clever boy, but a 
poor student. During his residence here he lost his mother, 
of whom, unfortunately, he had seen very little. At the 
age of seventeen he left Harrow ; and his father being un- 
able to send him to the university, he came to London, and 
spent the next two years under the paternal roof, studying 
oratory with his father, and Latin and fencing with private 
instructors. 

Two years later the family moved .to Bath, the fashion- 

.*„*,_ able health-resort and watering-place, then far 
At Bath. or 7 

more famous than now as a city of pleasure. It 

was crowded with people of wealth and fashion, and haunted 

by adventurers and sharpers. 

Of all the gay places the world can afford, 

By gentle and simple for pastime ador'd, 

Fine balls, and fine concerts, fine buildings, and springs, 

Fine walks, and fine views, and a thousand fine things, 

(Not to mention the sweet situation and air) 

What place, my dear mother, with Bath can compare? 1 

Indeed, as a capital of fashion, health, and pleasure, eigh- 
teenth-century Bath was without a rival. In the midst of 
its varied life the young Sheridan moved, observing many 
queer types of humanity, noting in their talk and manners 
much that was ludicrous, and with his keen eye and reten- 
tive memory storing up material for future plays. 

As he approached his majority he began to think of a 
life calling. All his inclination was towards authorship. At 
Literary Harrow he had begun a play founded on The 
projects. Vicar of Wakefield, and had composed a long 
essay on versification. With Halhed, an old Harrow school 
chum who had proceeded to Oxford, he now began to col- 
laborate on a farce, Jupiter (completed, but never acted), 
and on a translation from the Greek of the love epistles of 
Aristaenetus (completed and published, but without pecu« 

1 The Neio Bath Guide, 1766. 



INTRODUCTION vii 

liiary returns). Moreover he came near launching a weekly 
periodical in the style of The Spectator. He had fixed upon 
a name, Hernan's Miscellany, had prepared some manu- 
script for the first issue, and had secured a willing printer; 
but suddenly, for reasons now unknown, he gave up the 
plan. His head teemed with many other literary projects. 
Yet the young would-be author found time for a roman- 
tic courtship and marriage. The Sheridans became intimate 
at Bath with the family of Mr. Thomas Linley, 
a fashionable teacher of music, noted both as a and mar- 
player on the harpsichord and as a composer. His nage " 
son, Tom (declared by Mozart to be a prodigy), and his 
daughters, Elizabeth and Mary, were so excellently gifted 
in music, and so well trained, that Doctor Burney called 
their home "a nest of nightingales." The elder daughter, 
Miss Elizabeth Linley, frequently appeared in public orato- 
rios at Bath, Oxford, London, and elsewhere. Her beauty, 
her modesty, and her " divinely sweet voice" captivated 
all hearts. Halhed, after hearing her sing at Oxford, 
wrote : " I am petrified ; my very faculties are annihilated 
with wonder. My conception could not form such a power 
of voice — such a melody — such a soft yet so audible a 
tone!" Not only, however, was Miss Linley a "mistress 
of harmony " ; her beauty of character was equally charm- 
ing. Sheridan wrote of her : — 

So well her mind and voice agree 
That every thought is melody. 

After her first public singing in London, the novelist 
Frances Burney wrote in her diary : " The whole town 
seems distracted about her. Every other diversion is for- 
saken. Miss Linley alone engrosses all eyes, ears, hearts." 
She was generally acclaimed the belle of the day, and was 
literally besieged by suitors. She was the subject of a com- 
edy by Foote, The Maid of Bath (1771) ; was painted by 
Sir Joshua Reynolds as St. Cecilia ; was ranked by Horace 
Walpole " above all beauties of her day " ; and was ad- 
mired by the King, who declared that " he never in his life 
heard so fine a voice." Miss Linley was as romantic as she 



viii INTRODUCTION 

was beautiful. In 1772, in order to escape from an obnox* 
ious suitor, and to avoid singing in public oratorios, she 
planned to run away and take refuge in a French convent. 
Sheridan's sisters were let into the plot, and then Sheridan 
himself. Like the knight in romance, he volunteered to 
act as her escort thither. One rainy night the two escaped, 
and after a stormy voyage across the Channel, reached Cal- 
ais in safety. Sheridan, who had long worshipped Miss 
Linley in silence, now urged his suit so eloquently that 
she consented to a secret marriage. Immediately after the 
ceremony she entered a convent in Lille, where she intended 
to remain until he came of age, or was able to support a 
wife. Soon, however, Mr. Linley appeared and conducted 
the young persons back to England. In consequence of the 
escapade Sheridan fought two duels with the disappointed 
suitor, and the whole incident became a matter of notoriety. 
After a year of secret courtship (for the ceremony in France 
was not binding) Sheridan and Miss Linley were formally 
united according to the rites of the Church of England, and 
began housekeeping in a modest cottage at East Burnham. 

Sheridan, now face to face with the problem of support- 
ing a household, began to work in earnest. On November 
17, 1774, he wrote to his father-in-law: "There will be a 
Composes comedy of mine in rehearsal at Covent Garden 
The Rivals. [Theatre] within a few days. I did not set to 
work on it till within a few days of my setting out for 
Crome, so you may think I have not for these last six 
weeks been very idle." This play was The Rivals. On 
January 17, 1775, with high expectations on the part of 
the author and of the management, it was presented to the 
public at the Covent Garden Theatre. 

But the play proved a failure. It showed clearly the in- 
experience of the author, it was too long by nearly an hour, 
p . it was badly performed, and, in particular, the 

night's character of Sir Lucius O'Trigger was so wretch- 

edly acted as to call forth general disapproval. 
Perhaps the best way to describe its reception is to quote 
from one of the newspapers of the following day : 1 — 
1 Quoted from W. Fraser Rae, Sheridan's Plays, 1902, p. xviii. 



INTRODUCTION ix 

"The Rivals, as a Comedy, requires much castigation, 
and the pruning hand of judgment, before it can ever pass 
on the Town as even a tolerable Piece. In language it is 
lefective to an extreme, in Plot outre and one of the Char* 
meters is an absolute exotic in the wilds of nature. The au- 
thor seems to have considered puns, witticisms, similes and 
metaphors, as admirable substitutes for polished diction ; 
hence they abound in every sentence ; and hence it is that 
instead of the ' Met[a~\morphosis ' of Ovid, one of the char- 
acters is made to talk of Ovid's i Meat-for-Hopes,' a Lady 
is called the i Pine Apple of beauty/ the Gentleman in 
return 'an Orange of perfection.' A Lover describes the 
sudden change of disposition in his Mistress by saying, 
that ' she flies off in a tangent born[e] down by the current 
of disdain ' ; and a second Tony Lumkin, to describe how 
fast he rode, compares himself to a i Comet with a tail of 
dust at his heels.' 

" These are shameful absurdities in language, which can 
suit no character, how widely soever it may depart from 
common life and common manners. 

" Whilst thus censure is freely passed, not to say that 
there are various sentiments in the Piece which demon- 
strate the Author's no stranger to the finer feelings, would 
be shameful partiality. 

" Time will not permit a thorough investigation of this 
Comedy ; but if the ' Rivals ' rests its claim to public fa- 
vour solely on the basis of merit, the hisses of the auditors 
on the first night of representation give reason to suspect 
a most fatal disappointment. However, that it may be suf- 
fered to have the usual nine nights' run, is what, on the 
Author's account, we most sincerely wish ; but this we can 
assure him, that if the dulness of law writers have made 
him yawn, the dulness of the ' Rivals ' lulled several of the 
middle gallery spectators into a profound sleep." — The 
Publie Ledger, January 18, 1775. 

Sheridan withdrew the play at once, and set to work re- 
vising it. The Morning Post, on January 19, 
1775, announced : " The Comedy of the Rivals, for revi- 
at Co vent Garden^ is withdrawn for the present, 0Rr 



x INTRODUCTION 

to undergo some severe primings, trimmings, and patch* 
ings, before its second appearance: the Author, Ave are 
informed, seeing the general disapprobation with which it 
was received, was very desirous of withdrawing it entirely, 
but the managers would not consent to it, determined to 
stand the event of a second embarcation, let the conse- 
quences be what they may." The nature and extent of 
Sheridan's revision can only be guessed at. Some notion, 
however, may be obtained by comparing the present text of 
the play with the newspaper review just quoted. 

Ten days later The Rivals was for a second time offered 
to the public. It had been thoroughly revised, much short- 
Second ened, and a new actor, Clinch, had been substi- 
perform- t t d f or j jee j n t h e r (y] e f Sir Lucius O'Trig- 
ance sue- . . ' 
cessful. ger. The result was a complete triumph. Hie 

British Chronicle records : " At the second representation 
of the new Comedy of the Rivals, it was received with the 
warmest bursts of approbation by a crowded and apparently 
impartial audience." 1 At once The Rivals became a favor- 
ite with London playgoers, and was hailed by the critics as 
the greatest comedy of the age. 

On May 2 of the same year Sheridan produced at Co- 
vent Garden a short farce, St. Patrick's Day, written for 
St. Pat- a benefit performance of the actor Clinch, who, 
rick's Day a ft er L ee h a d so signally failed in the part of Sir 
Duenna. Lucius O'Trigger, had assumed the role with 
unusual success. This piece, which Sheridan wrote in forty- 
eight hours, does not deserve much attention from students 
of literature. On his next work, however, produced in the 
same year, Sheridan put forth his best efforts. This was 
a comic opera, The Duenna, full of beautiful lyrics for 
which Mr. Linley composed the music. It was produced at 
Covent Garden on November 21, 1775, and at once met 
with rare success. During the first season it was acted no 
less than seventy-five times; and though nowadays it is 
never put on the stage, it was judged by contemporaries to 
be a wonderful performance. Sheridan's reputation was at 
last secure. The universal opinion of the public, as well as 
i Quoted from Rae, Sheridan's Plays, p. xxvii. 



INTRODUCTION xi 

of the critics, was expressed by Doctor Johnson when he 
said, in proposing Sheridan for membership in the famous 
Literary Club, " He who has written the two best come' 
dies of his age \_The Rivals and The Duenna] is surely a 
considerable man." 

In June, 1776, Garrick retired from the managership oi 
the Drury Lane Theatre. Sheridan, Mr. Linley, and a 
friend, Doctor Ford, bought Garrick's half-inter- „ 

Irx3.n&£6X' 

est in the theatre, and Sheridan, aged twenty-five, of Drury 
was given the important post of manager. This ane ' 
position he retained, with varying degrees of success and 
failure, virtually throughout the rest of his life. 

The public awaited with high expectations the next play 
from the hands of the new manager. After a considerable 
delay this came on May 8, 1777, as The School The School 
for Scandal. It more than rilled the expectations f or ScandaL 
of the audience, and added greatly to the reputation of it& 
author. It is a better play than The Rivals, and stands 
without dispute as Sheridan's masterpiece. Even to-day i*» 
maintains its popularity with playgoers, and holds a promi* 
nent place among the stock-comedies of our stage. 

On October 30, 1779, Sheridan produced The Critic, a 
comedy modeled on the Duke of Buckingham's Rehear* 
sal. It is clever throughout, and though now 
rarely acted, was at the time a notable success. 
It deserves to rank next to The Rivals and The School 
for Scandal as Sheridan's best work. 

Sheridan, though still in his twenties, had shown him- 
self to be the greatest playwright of the age. He was the 
son of an actor, was the manager of the Drury Abandons 
Lane Theatre, and was a large shareholder in its JJSorpoU- 
patent. Everything seemed to mark out for him a tics- 
brilliant career as a dramatist. Suddenly, however, he aban- 
doned this promising career. He had written his last origi- 
nal play, and though he continued to be manager of Drury 
Lane, he turned all his energies to politics. In 1780 hn 
secured a seat in Parliament. Eleven days later he made 
his first speech, and revealed his powers of oratory. 
Two months later he was elected a member of Brooks'* 



xii INTRODUCTION 

Club, the most powerful and exclusive political club of 
foe day, at whose meetings the leaders of the Whig Party 
decided affairs of state. Two years later he was given the 
important office of Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. 
His career in politics cannot interest us in its minute de- 
tails ; suffice it to say that for a quarter of a century he 
was one of the most conspicuous figures in Parliament, and 
one of its most brilliant orators, sharing fame with Charles 
Fox, William Pitt, the younger, and Edmund Burke. 

The climax of his career was marked by his two brilliant 
orations against Warren Hastings. Their effect may be il- 
Power as lustrated by a quotation from Sir Gilbert Elliot, 
an orator. fi rst £arl f Minto, at the time a member of Par- 
liament. After hearing Sheridan's speech he wrote to his 
wife : " This last night, though the House was up soon 
after one, and I was in bed before two, I have not slept 
one wink. Nothing whatever was the matter with me, ex- 
cept the impression of what had been passing still vibrat- 
ing on my brain. . . . Sheridan opened his charge, and 
spoke exactly five hours and a half, with such fluency and 
rapidity that I think his speech could not be read in double 
the time. You may imagine the quantity of matter it con- 
tained. It was by many degrees the most excellent and as- 
tonishing performance I ever heard, and surpasses all I ever 
imagined possible in eloquence and ability. This is the uni- 
versal sense of all who heard it. You will conceive how 
admirable it was when I tell you that he surpassed, I think, 
Pitt, Fox, and even Burke, in his finest and most brilliant 
orations. . . . It is impossible to describe the feelings he ex- 
cited. The bone rose repeatedly in my throat, and tears in my 
eyes — not of grief, but merely of strongly excited sensibility ; 
so they were in Dudley Long's, who is not, I should think, 
particularly tearful. The conclusion, in which the whole 
force of the case was collected, and where his whole powers 
were employed to their utmost stretch, and indeed his own 
feelings wound to the utmost pitch, worked the House up 
into such a paroxysm of passionate enthusiasm on the sub- 
ject, and of admiration for him, that the moment he sat down 
there was a universal shout, nay, even clapping, for half -a- 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

second ; every man was on the floor, and all his friends 
throwing themselves on his neck in raptures of joy and 
exultation. This account is not at all exaggerated, and 
hardly does justice to, I daresay, the most remarkable scene 
ever exhibited, either there or in any other popular assem- 
bly." 1 That Sir Gilbert did not exaggerate we have ample 
evidence. Burke declared that the speech was "the most 
astonishing effort of eloquence, argument, and wit united, 
of which there was any record or tradition " ; Pitt wrote 
that it was "without exception one of the most wonderful 
performances I ever heard, and almost the greatest imagina- 
ble exertion of the human mind " ; and Fox, with character- 
istic enthusiasm, asserted that "all that he had ever heard, 
all that he had ever read, when compared with it, dwindled 
into nothing, and vanished like vapour before the sun." 
Parliament voted to adjourn until the next day, for the 
avowed reason that its members could not fairly and dispas- 
sionately vote on the question while under the spell of the 
oration. Yet when Sheridan's speeches are read nowadays 
they are strangely disappointing, and when compared with 
the speeches of Burke they seem pale and ineffectual. Ac- 
cordingly Mr. Saintsbury has referred to his oratory as 
"theatrical and rather brassy." It cannot be denied, how- 
ever, that Sheridan exercised over his hearers a power of 
oratory unsurpassed in the records of Parliament. 

Naturally Sheridan's intense interest in politics led to 
his neglect of Drury Lane. In fact, the only thing that 
saved his management from disaster was the TlieSt 

brilliant group of actors he had got together, gersaixd 
. •> Pizarro. 

Finally, to retrieve the finances of the theatre 

after a series of misfortunes, he turned his hand again to 
the playwright's art. This time he contented himself with 
adapting from the German two comedies of Kotzebue, The 
Strangers (1798) and Pizarro (1799). Though ' adapta- 
tions, and consequently not to be reckoned in his list of 
original works, these plays showed clearly that he had lost 
none of his skill as a dramatist. They created a sensation 

1 From Life and Letters of Sir Gilbert Elliot, first Earl of Minto, i, 
123-4. Quoted in Rae, Life, ii, 60. 



xiv INTRODUCTION 

among the playgoers, and for the time replenished the 
empty coffers of the theatre. 

The last years of Sheridan's life were clouded in do 
mestic, political, and pecuniary troubles. He- lost 
his wife, and married again somewhat unhap- 
pily; he watched his beloved son Tom yield slowly to the 
ravages of consumption ; he himself suffered continuously 
from a painful disorder. In politics he formed a baleful 
friendship with the unworthy Prince of Wales ; his party 
was out of power ; and his alliances within the party were 
unfortunate. In his pecuniary affairs he became involved 
in difficulties that led to his ultimate ruin. In 1791 Drury 
Lane Theatre was condemned as unsafe, and had to be 
reconstructed at a heavy expense. In 1809 it was totally 
destroyed by fire, and with it a large part of Sheridan's 
fortune. When the theatre was rebuilt, new officials as- 
sumed charge, and Sheridan was forced out. Moreover, the 
sum of money due him for his share was wrongfully with- 
held. By 1812 Sheridan's affairs were in so bad a state that 
he could not pay the expenses of a re-election to Parliament. 
In 1813 he was actually arrested for debt, and for a short 
time confined in a sponging-house. His career was now 
over. Shut out from the theatre and from politics, besieged 
by creditors, harassed by domestic sorrows, and suffering 
from a painful malady, he dragged his life to an unhappy 
end. Even as he lay dying, a sheriff with a writ of debt 
took up lodging in the house. He passed away quietly on 
July 7, 1816, at the age of sixty-five. From the shore of 
Lake Geneva Byron wrote : — 

A mighty Spirit is eclipsed — a Power 
Hath passed from day to darkness — to whose hour 
Of light no likeness is bequeathed — no name, 
Focus at once of all the rays of Fame! 
The flash of Wit — the bright Intelligence, 
The oeam of Song — the blaze of Eloquence, 
Set with their Sun, but still have left behind 
The enduring produce of immortal Mind. 

His funeral was attended with magnificent pomp, and he 
was laid with honor in the Poets' Corner of Westminster 
Abbey. 



INTRODUCTION x* 

II 

THE RIVALS 

The Rivals is " a comedy of intrigue " in which the action 
turns upon humorous deception. The audience is let into 
the secret at the outset, and thus allowed to enjoy A come a y 
the pleasure of witnessing those not in the secret °* intrigue. 
make themselves ridiculous ; of anticipating the surprise of 
the ultimate discovery ; of relishing the innumerable double- 
entendres ; and of sympathizing with the hero when he is 
treading, so to speak, on thin ice. There is a continual bus- 
tle of action, mixed with surprises, and an ever-complicat- 
ing plot. In many respects the play is strikingly like the 
comedies of Terence and Plautus, in which the young hero 
and heroine, by a series of ingenious devices, outwit their 
parents or guardians ; and the similarity is ^heightened by 
the presence of clever servants. 

Secondly, The Rivals is " a comedy of hu Afrrs," a type 
developed by Ben Jonson and frequently employed through- 
out the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. . . 

o A comedy 

The term " humour " was applied to some habit- of hu- 

ual oddity of character or of manner which ren- 
dered a person more or less absurd. In The Rivals most 
of the dramatis personal exhibit for our amusement 
clearly marked " humours " : Acres in his foppishness and 
his " referential oaths " ; Mrs. Malaprop, in her misuse of 
big words, and her refrain " don't become a young wo- 
man " ; Sir Anthony Absolute, in his irascibility — his " ab- 
solutism " ; Lydia Languish, in her ultra-romantic temper- 
ament ; Sir Lucius O'Trigger, in his self-assurance and his 
love of quarrels ; and Faulkland, in his absurd jealousy and 
alternating moods. These " humours " are well sustained 
throughout the play. 

Thirdly, The Rivals is " a comedy of wit." Interest, it 
is true, is maintained in the plot; but the life of the play 
is in the dialogue. We delight primarily in the a comedy 
volleys of wit, in the keen but good-natured ofwlt 
satire, and in the all-pervading spirit of fun. Many of the 



Kvl INTRODUCTION" 

epigrammatic sayings of the characters have passed into 
our ordinary speech, and others, we find, linger pleasantly 
in our memory. 

Finally, The Rivals is " a comedy of society " ; that is, 
the mirror is held up to the fashionable world in its dis- 
A comedy tinctively social functions. Perhaps The School 
of society. j> or Scandal is an even better example of this 
type of comedy. The two plays together, it may be &aid, 
reflect the contemporary fashionable life of the two great 
capitals of English society, — Bath, with its free and easy 
cosmopolitanism, and London, with its brilliant drawing- 
room artificiality. 

" The scope and immediate object of a play," says Sher- 
idan in his Preface, " is to please a mixed assembly in 
Success on Representation." Judged by this standard, The 
the stage. Rivals has thoroughly succeeded. For nearly a 
century and a half it has kept its place in our theatrical 
repertory, always effective when adequately presented. Its 
sudden surprises, clever groupings of persons, strong con- 
trasts of character, keen thrusts of satire, and rapid fire- 
works of wit make it in action a grand tour de force that 
is well-nigh irresistible. 

But the play must be submitted also, as Sheridan grants, 
to " the cooler tribunal of the Study." Here it does not 
Faults as ^ are quite so well, for the reader who judges the 
literature. p} a y as literature finds along with its excellent 
qualities certain grave faults. These faults are due primarily, 
it would seem, to the inexperience of the author. Indeed, 
from a young man of twenty-three, unfamiliar with the 
theatre, and composing his first play, we could not expect 
the finish of a master. The remarkable thing is that the 
play is so excellent. 

To inexperience, surely, is due the first fault that we 
observe : the machinery of the play is too evident. We 
realize too often that the characters are talking not to each 
other, but at the audience ; we see constantly the drama- 
tist striving through asides and monologues to convey to 
us certain necessary information ; and we feel throughout 
the general movement of the plot the presence of some one 




MAP OF BATH 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

behind the scenes. In short, the young playwright had not 
yet acquired " the art that conceals art." 

A second fault, obvious on reading the play, is the arti- 
ficiality of the language. The servants, for example, are 
far too keen at repartee, and their wit is of a nature quite 
impossible in country menials. This in some measure may 
be excused, perhaps, on the plea that the whole play 
moves on a level of wit much higher than in actual life, 
and that in the midst of the general display of cleverness 
even the servants may indulge in epigram and repartee. 
The explanation, however, does not fully excuse. Again, 
in quite a different way, Faulkland and Julia are artificial. 
They speak in stilted rhetoric and elaborate figures. Take, 
for example, Julia's closing speech : — 

" Then let us study to preserve it so : and while Hope 
pictures to us a flattering scene of future Bliss, let us deny 
its pencil those colours .which are too bright to be lasting. 
— When Hearts deserving Happiness would unite their 
fortune, Virtue would crown them with an unfading garland 
of modest, hurtless flowers; but ill-judging Passion will 
force the gaudier Rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends 
them, when its Leaves are dropt!" Certainly no young 
lady ever spoke in this fashion, and even the fact that 
Faulkland and Julia represent the sentimental muse does 
not condone such artificiality. The other characters, also, 
are apt now and then to speak rhetorically. 

Again, the humor of the play is often exaggerated to the 
point of improbability, or sheer impossibility. For exam- 
ple, Mrs. Malaprop's misuse of words is at times overdone : 

" I laid my positive conjunction on her, never to think 
on the fellow again ; — I have since laid Sir Anthony's 
preposition before her ; — but, I 'm sorry to say, she seems 
resolved to decline every particle that I enjoin her." 

"Well, Sir Anthony, since you desire it, we will not 
anticipate the past ; — so mind, young people — our retro- 
spection will now be all to the future." 

Surely there is too much method in this " derangement 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

of epitaphs." Moreover ? Bob Acres's " referential oaths," 
though invariably humorous, leave an impression that they 
are "above the speaker's capacity." 

"David. But put the case that he kills me! — by the 
Mass ! I go to the worms, and my honour whips over to 
my enemy ! 

" Acres. N"o, David — in that case ! — Odds crowns and 
laurels ! your honour follows you to the grave." 

16 Sir Lucius. Would you chuse to be pickled and sent 
home ? — or would it be the same to you to lie here in the 
Abbey ? I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey. 

" Acres. Pickled ! — Snug lying in the Abbey ! — Odds 
tremors ! Sir Lucius, don't talk so ! " 

We smile at these ingenious oaths, yet at the same time 
are quite aware of their improbability. 

The English stage in the latter half of the eighteenth 
century was overrun with the so-called Sentimental Corn- 
Relation to edy — the French comedie larmoyante. It pre- 
mentaf ti_ sented to the audience impossible characters, 
comedy. speaking in an artificial, " genteel " language, 
and moving in an atmosphere surcharged with virtue. 
Apparently its main purposes were to teach morality, and 
to make the spectators " weep a flood." Against this pre- 
vailing sentimental comedy a warfare had been waged for 
some years. Goldsmith, in The Good Natur'd Man (1768) 
and She Stoops to Conquer (1773), had struck the hardest 
blows. But others, also, had joined in the battle ; notably 
Samuel Foote, who had produced at the Haymarket The- 
atre in 1773 an amusing burlesque of the sentimental in 
his farce The Handsome Housemaid ; or Piety in Pat- 
tens, in which " a maiden of low degree, by the mere 
effects of morality and virtue, raised herself to riches and 
honours." 1 The Rivals carried on the work of Goldsmith 
and Foote, and helped to give the finishing blows to the 
prevailing moral-lachrymose comedy. This fact Sheridan 

1 This is not extant; for a discussion of it, and of the sentimental 
comedy, see John Genest, Some Account of the English Stage, v, 374-6. 



INTRODUCTION xix 

clearly acknowledges in his second prologue., in which he 
makes fun of 

The goddess of the woiul countenance — 
The sentimental Muse. 

Yet, as a concession, it would seem, to those who de- 
manded sentimentality, Sheridan introduced in sentimental 
the characters of Julia and Faulkland a senti- sub-plot, 
mental sub-plot. The actor Bernard, who witnessed the first 
performance of The Rivals, wrote some years later : u It 
must he remembered that this was the English 'age of sen- 
timent,' and Kelly and Cumberland had flooded the stage 
with moral poems under the title of comedies, which took 
their views of life from the drawing-room exclusively, and 
coloured their characters with a nauseous French affecta- 
tion. 6 The Rivals' was an attempt to overthrow this taste, 
and to follow up the blow which Goldsmith had given in 
' She Stoops to Conquer.' My recollection of the manner 
in which the former [The Rivals'] was received, bears me 
out in the supposition. The audience on this occasion were 
composed of two parties — those who supported the pre- 
vailing taste, and those who were indifferent to it and liked 
nature. The consequence was that Faulkland and Julia 
(which Sheridan had obviously introduced to conciliate the 
sentimentalists) were the characters which were the most 
favourably received." * 

It must not be overlooked, however, that Faulkland and 
Julia serve also as foils to Captain Absolute and Lydia, 
and as such have full dramatic justification. The romantic 
courtship of the one pair of lovers stands out vividly and 
humorously against the sentimental courtship of the other 
pair. Each gains much from the contrast. Furthermore, 
the sub-plot may be regarded as comic. It approaches, 
indeed, very near to a satire on the sentimental, a fact 
recognized by the critic of The Morning Chronicle (Janu- 
ary 18, 1775), when he wrote: "The characters of Faulk- 
land and Julia are even beyond the pitch of sentimental 
comedy." In modern productions of the play this sub-plot 

1 Quoted in Fitzgerald's The Lives of the Sheridans, i, 119-20. 



xx INTRODUCTION 

is commonly reduced to a minimum : yet there is no 
reason why the present-day reader should not enjoy the 
parts of Faulkland and Julia, both as a foil to Absolute 
and Lydia, and as a comic satire on the sentimental. 

In the preface to The Rivals Sheridan says : " Many 
other errors there were, which might in part have 
arisen from my being by no means conversant 
with plays in general, either in reading or at the theatre. 
Yet I own that in one respect I did not regret my igno- 
rance : for as my first wish in attempting a Play was to avoid 
every appearance of plagiary, I thought I should stand a 
better chance of effecting this from being in a walk which 
I had not frequented, and where consequently the pro- 
gress of invention was less likely to be interrupted by 
starts of recollection." From this we might infer that a 
discussion of the sources of The Rivals would be super- 
fluous. Such, however, is not the case, for though Sheri- 
dan did not borrow much from outside sources, he did 
utilize material from within the family. 

Part of the play, we know, came from an earlier attempt. 
On November 17, 1774, he wrote to his father-in-law, Mr. 
Linley : " I had not written a line of it two months ago, 
except a scene or two, which, I believe, you have seen 
in an odd act of a little farce." Of this " little farce » 
we know absolutely nothing. Apparently it was an early 
attempt at a play, resembling The Rivals in some of its 
scenes. 

Again, part of the play came from his mother's unfin- 
ished and unpublished comedy, A Journey to Bath. 1 Here, 
in the character of Mrs. Tryfort, "the fondest of hard 
words, which without miscalling, she always takes care to 
misapply," he found Mrs. Malaprop, with " her select 
words so ingeniously misapplied, without being mispro- 
nounced." He has Mrs. Malaprop repeat in The Rivals 
eight of the word blunders made by Mrs. Tryfort. More- 
over, he got from Mrs. Tryfort Mrs. Malaprop's character- 
tag, " don't become a young woman." It is more than 

1 First printed by W. F. Rae, in Sheridan's Plays, 1902. 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

possible, too, that he found in Ned Bull, of Bull Hall, 
the suggestion of Bob Acres, of Clod Hall ; compare, for 
example, The Rivals, ii, 1 and iii, 4, with A Journey 
to Bath , iii, 1 and iii, 11. Actual verbal borrowings are 
obvious in at least two places : 

" If I had Blunderbus Hall here, I could show you a 
range of ancestry." — The Rivals, iii, 4. 

u If I had your ladyship at Bull-hall, I could show yota 
a line of ancestry." — A Journey to Bath, p. 311. 

" Though the mansion-house and dirty acres have slipped 
through my fingers, I thank heaven our honor and the 
family-pictures are as fresh as ever." — The Rinals, iii, 4. 

" Why the land and the Mansion house has slipped thro' 
our fingers, boy: but thank heaven the family pictures are 
still extant." — A Journey to Bath, p. 312. 

To a much less extent Sheridan was indebted to his 
mother's novel, The Memoirs of Miss Sidney Bidulph. 
The name Faulkland undoubtedly came from this source, 
with possibly some suggestion of his character. The Faulk- 
land of the novel is thus described : l "His ideas of love, 
honour, generosity, and gratitude, are so refined, that no 
hero in romance ever went beyond him." From the novel 
also, perhaps, came a few " starts of recollection " that 
embodied themselves in the play. Thus, in Sidney Bi- 
dulph Faulkland, after having killed a man, rushes before 
the woman he loves and dramatically exclaims : " You see 
a man whose life is forfeited to the law." In The Rivals 
Faulkland appears before Julia under the pretense of hav- 
ing killed a man, and declares : " You see before you a 
wretch, whose life is forfeited." The situations are quite 
similar. Again, in the novel, Faulkland, the second, is 
represented as jealous of his beloved Cecilia's being " the 
life of the whole family " and exhibiting a " constant flow 
of spirits." 2 This occurs also in The Rivals, ii, 1. In 
general, however, the indebtedness of the play to thfe 
novel is slight, 
i Ed. 1761, vol. iii, p. 242. 2 ibid., vol. iv, pp. 122, 128. 



xxii INTRODUCTION 

Attempts have been made to prove that Sheridan was 
indebted to numerous other sources. It may be true that 
he had read, or seen on the stage, a number of plays, and 
that " faded ideas" from these plays " floated "in his 
memory " like half-forgotten dreams." But that he was 
guilty of any close borrowing seems altogether doubtful. 



Ill 

THE TEXT OF THE RIVALS 

The original manuscript of The Rivals as presented on 
January 17, 1775, has been lost ; consequently we have 
no means of knowing what changes Sheridan made in 
revising the play for its second performance. The chief 
complaint of the newspaper critics, however, seems to have 
been that the play was too long — according to The Morn- 
ing Chronicle, " a full hoar longer in representation than 
any piece on the stage." To reduce the play by an hour, 
something like the suppressing of whole scenes, or the 
condensing of two scenes into one, may have been neces- 
sary. In the first edition the scenes are misnumbered in 
such a way (in act iii, scene 4 is omitted, in act iv, scene 3) 
as to suggest that possibly Sheridan eliminated, by suppres- 
sion or combination, two scenes, and forgot to renumber 
the remaining ones. Of minor alterations in text a slight 
notion may be obtained by comparing the present text of 
the play with the various newspaper criticisms of the first 
performance. 

After the triumph of the play on its second production, 
January 28, 1775, Sheridan himself prepared the manu- 
script for the press, and added a modestly-worded Preface 
in which he defended himself and the manager of the Co- 
vent Garden Theatre against certain charges occasioned by 
the first night's failure. In all probability he prepared this 
edition with care, for, in a sense, his reputation as a play- 
wright was at stake. It was published in London by John 
Wilkie in 1775, and is now one of the rare editions in 
our literature, fetching on the market from $50 to $250. 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

In the same year appeared the so-called second edition, in 
reality nothing but a later issue of the first edition, from 
the same setting of type, and differing merely in having 
inserted upon the title-page the words " The Second Edi- 
tion." 

In 1776 appeared "The Third Edition, Corrected." This 
seems to represent the stage version of the play as then 
acted. It contains the Serjeant-at-Law prologue in a slightly 
modified form; prints for the first time the "Prologue 
spoken on the Tenth Night " ; makes a few unimportant 
changes in text ; and, most noticeable of all, omits a large 
number of passages. These omissions doubtless represent 
the "cuts" made by the actors. 

In 1821 Murray published in two volumes a very at- 
tractive edition of Sheridan's works, with an introduction 
by Thomas Moore. The Rivals was printed from the third, 
or " truncated" edition, but with various modernizations 
and certain textual changes by the editor. All subsequent 
reprints of The Rivals (with two exceptions, to be spoken 
of hereafter) go back directly or indirectly to this Murray 
edition, hence reproduce a text that is neither complete 
nor in any sense authoritative. 

In 1902 Fraser Rae issued Sheridan's Plays, now 
printed as he wrote them. (The title on the cover is Slier- 
{dan's Plays First Printed from His MSS.) In his 
Prefatory Notes Rae says : * * In the preface to my Bio- 
graphy of Sheridan I described how much information I 
had obtained from the library at Frampton Court, where 
many of Sheridan's manuscripts are very carefully preserved. 
Sheridan's grandfather [ = grandson] gave much time and 
care to arranging the manuscripts of ' The Rivals,' ' The 
Duenna,' ' The School for Scandal,' and ' The Critic,' and 
he had them bound in handsome volumes." The word 
"grandfather" was obviously a slip of the pen, for both 
of Sheridan's grandfathers were dead long before The 
Rivals was written. Mrs. Algernon Sheridan writes me 
from Frampton Court : " What Rae can have had in mind 
when he spoke of Sheridan's grandfather arranging the 
manuscripts one does not know : possibly he meant that 



xxiv INTRODUCTION 

his grandson did so, which is undoubtedly true of every 
other play except The Rivals." And that Eae did mean 
" grandson " is shown clearly on page xxxviii of his edi- 
tion. To this statement about the manuscript of The 
Rivals preserved along with the other plays, Rae adds : 
" The only important manuscript of which there is no trace 
is that of ' The Rivals/ which was acquired by Mr. Harris, 
the manager of Covent Garden Theatre, the manuscript 
being probably destroyed when that theatre was burnt to 
the ground." Then, without further explanation, he prints, 
along with the text of the other plays preserved in manu- 
script at Frampton Court, a text of The Rivals which differs 
from that of all previous editions. 

Although B,ae does not actually say so, and, I believe, 
did not intend to deceive any one, the plain inference 
from his statements, and from his entire edition, is that 
although one manuscript of The Rivals (the original man- 
uscript put into the hands of Mr. Harris, the manager of 
the theatre) was destroyed, another manuscript (possibly 
the manuscript of the play as rewritten, or possibly some 
transcript) still exists ; that it was arranged by Sheridan's 
grandson, was handsomely bound along with the other 
extant manuscripts, and is preserved with them at Framp- 
ton Court; and, finally, that it is reproduced " with ab- 
solute fidelity " in Sheridan's Plays, now printed as he 
wrote them. 

Consequently, when Professor Nettleton issued his ad- 
mirable edition of The Major Dramas of Sheridan in 
The Athenceum Press Series, 1906) he accepted the text 
of Rae's edition as having been printed from "the origi- 
nal manuscript." In a prefatory note he says : "The text 
of The Rivals in this edition is taken, by Mr. Fraser 
Pae's generous permission, from his Sheridan's Plays, now 
printed as he wrote them (London, 1902). Of this book 
he once wrote me : i I copied Sheridan's text in order that 
a reader might have it before him, just as he would do if he 
ha^ che original manuscript.' This text — ' Sheridan's ver- 
sion, printed with absolute fidelity,' as his Prefatory Notes 
describe it — I have tried to reproduce with like fidelity." 



INTRODUCTION xxv 

But absolutely no manuscript of The Rivals exists. Eae 
himself says in his Sheridan, a Biography (London, 1896, 
i, 287) : "Moore -makes a remark which I regretfully con- 
firm : ' Strange ! that The Rivals should be the only one 
of his pieces of which there appears to be no traces in his 
papers.' " Mr. Sichel, in his recent biography, is even more 
specific {Sheridan, i, 495) : "The autograph of 'The Rivals' 
is said to have been burned at Covent Garden Theatre, and 
no manuscript is known to exist. " Furthermore, I have a 
definite statement from the Sheridan family that no manu- 
script of The Rivals is preserved at Frampton Court, nor, 
indeed, is one known by them to exist anywhere. 

There is, however, preserved at Frampton Court a copy 
of the first edition "with annotations — apparently in his 
[Sheridan's] wife's handwriting — on the margin.'' * 
Thus, opposite Mrs. Malaprop's misquotation from Hamlet 
is written : " Overdone — fitter for farce than comedy." 
And on Acres' classification of oaths, the comment is made : 
" Very good, but above the speaker's capacity." 2 Rae does 
not mention this copy, and does not reproduce either its 
text or its annotations. 

In preparing his text Rae seems to have clipped and 
pasted down some modern reprint, which, like all other 
modern reprints, reproduced the Murray two-volume edi- 
tion of 1821, with its alterations of text, and with modern- 
ized punctuation and stage-directions. 3 Then from the first 
edition he inserted the omitted passages. Finally, with 
much inconsistency and great carelessness, he introduced 
here and there corrections from the first edition. In gen- 
eral, however, his text represents the modern text that he 
pasted, with its modern punctuation and stage directions, 
and accumulated verbal errors. In printing, too, Rae care- 
lessly dropped out a number of words, and allowed addi- 

1 Sichel, Sheridan, i, 489. This copy, however, belonged to Tickell, 
Sheridan's brother-in-law, and Moore believed that the annotations were 
in the handwriting of Tickell. 

2 Moore, Memoirs of the Life of Sheridan, ch. iii; Fitzgerald, The 
Lives of the Sheridans, i, 496. 

3 For the purposes of comparison one may use the Bohn or the Temple 
edition , 



xxvi INTRODUCTION 

tional errors to creep in. 1 Obviously such a text has no 
scholarly value. 2 

The present volume undertakes to reproduce accurately 
the text of the first edition. All verbal changes from this 
edition are noted on page 130. The punctuation has been 
modernized to some extent, for there seems to be no ad- 
vantage in preserving the careless punctuation of the origi- 
nal printer. A few stage-directions (also noted on page 130) 
have been inserted where such would obviously assist the 
reader in understanding the play. 

1 For a comment on Rae's carelessness in reprinting, the reader is Te- 
/erred to Sichel, Sheridan, i, 492 ; Mr. Sichel shows, with quotations, 
ihat Rae's reprint of Mrs. Sheridan's A Journey to Bath is "full of inac- 
curacies." 

2 For a more detailed discussion of Rae's text see an article by the 
present writer, "The Text of The Rivals" in Modern Language Notes, 
vol. xxv. 



THE 



RIVALS, 



COMEDY. 



As it is acted at the 



Theatre-Royal in Covent-Garden. 




LONDON: 

Printed for John* Wiikie, No. 71, St. Paul's Church- Yard. 
MDCCLXXV. 

Facsimile oftht title-page of the first edition 



THE RIVALS 



PREFACE 



A Preface to a Play seems generally to be considered as 
a kind of Closet-prologue, in which — if his Piece has been 
successful — the Author solicits that indulgence from the 
Reader which he had before experienced from the Audience. 
But as the scope and immediate object of a Play is to please 
a mixed assembly in Representation (whose judgment in the 
Theatre at least is decisive), its degree of reputation is 
usually as determined as public, before it can be prepared 
for the cooler tribunal of the Study. Thus any farther solici- 
tude on the part of the Writer becomes unnecessary at least, 
if not an intrusion : and if the Piece has been condemned in 
the Performance, I fear an Address to the Closet, like an 
Appeal to Posterity, is constantly regarded as the procrasti- 
nation of a suit from a consciousness of the weakness of the 
cause. From these considerations, the following Comedy 
would certainly have been submitted to the Reader without 
any further introduction than what it had in the Represen- 
tation, but that its success has probably been founded on a 
circumstance which the Author is informed has not before 
attended a theatrical trial, and which, consequently, ought 
not to pass unnoticed. 

I need scarcely add that the circumstance alluded to was 
the withdrawing of the Piece * to remove those imperfections 
in the first Representation which were too obvious to escape 
reprehension, and too numerous to admit of a hasty correc- 
tion. There are few writers, I believe, who, even in the fullest 
consciousness of error, do not wish to palliate the faults which 
they acknowledge ; and, however trifling the performance, 
to second their confession of its deficiencies by whatever plea 
seems least disgraceful to their ability. In the present in- 
stance it cannot be said to amount either to candour or 
modesty in me to acknowledge an extreme inexperience 2 and 

1 withdrawing of the Piece : see Introduction, p. ix. 

2 extreme inexperience : The Rivals was Sheridan's first play r 
written when he was twenty-three years of age. 



2 PREFACE 

want of judgment on matters, in which, without guidance 
from practice, or spur from success, a young man should 
scarcely boast of being an adept. If it be said that under 
such disadvantages no one should attempt to write a play — 
I must beg leave to dissent from the position ; while the first 
point of experience that I have gained on the subject is a 
knowledge of the candour and judgment with which an im- 
partial Public distinguishes between the errors of inexperi- 
ence and incapacity, and the indulgence which it shews even 
to a disposition to remedy the defects of either. 

It were unnecessary to enter into any farther extenuation 
of what was thought exceptionable in this Play, but that it 
has been said that the Managers should have prevented some 
of the defects before its appearance to the Public — and in 
particular the uncommon length 1 of the piece as represented 
the first night. It were an ill return for the most liberal and 
gentlemanly conduct on their side to suffer any censure to 
rest where none was deserved. Hurry in writing has long 
been exploded as an excuse for an Author ; — however, in 
the dramatic line it may happen that both an Author and a 
Manager may wish to fill a chasm in the entertainment of 
the Public with a hastiness not altogether culpable. The 
season was advanced when I first put the play into Mr. 
Harris's 2 hands : — it was at that time at least double the 
length of any acting comedy. — I profited by his judgment 
and experience in the curtailing of it — 'till, I believe, his 
feeling for the vanity of a young Author got the better of 
his desire for correctness, and he left many excrescences 
remaining, because he had assisted in pruning so many more. 
Hence, though I was not uninformed that the Acts were still 
too long, I flatter'd myself that, after the first trial, I might 
with safer judgment proceed to remove what should appear 
to have been most dissatisfactory, — Many other errors there 
were, which might in part have arisen from my being by no 
means conversant with plays in general, either in reading 
or at the theatre. Yet I own that in one respect I did not 
regret my ignorance : for as my first wish in attempting a 

1 uncommon length : A critic in The Morning Chronicle (January 
20, 1775) remarks: "And the play itself is a, full hour longer in the 
representation than any piece on the stage. — This last circumstance 
is an error of such a nature as shows either great obstinacy in the 
Author, or excessive ignorance in the managers. " 

2 Mr. Harris : the manager of the Covent Garden Theatre. 



PREFACE 3 

Play was to avoid every appearance of plagiary, I thought 
I should stand a better chance of effecting this from being in 
a walk which I had not frequented, and where consequently 
the progress of invention was less likely to be interrupted by 
starts of recollection : for on subjects on which the mind 
has been much informed, invention is slow of exerting itself. 
Faded ideas float in the fancy like half-forgotten dreams; 
and the imagination in its fullest enjoyments becomes suspi- 
cious of its offspring, and doubts whether it has created or 
adopted. 

With regard to some particular passages which on the 
First Night's Representation seemed generally disliked, I 
confess that if I felt any emotion of surprise at the disappro- 
bation, it was not that they were disapproved of, but that I 
had not before perceived that they deserved it. As some part 
of the attack on the Piece was begun too early to pass for 
the sentence of Judgment, which is ever tardy in condemn- 
ing, it has been suggested to me that much of the disappro- 
bation must have arisen from virulence of Malice, 1 rather 
than severity of Criticism : but as I was more apprehensive 
of there being just grounds to excite the latter, than con- 
scious of having deserved the former, I continue, not to 
believe that probable, which, I am sure, must have been un- 
provoked. However, if it was so, and I could even mark the 
quarter from whence it came, it would be ungenerous to re- 
tort ; for no passion suffers more than malice from disap- 
pointment. For my own part, I see no reason why the Author 
of a Play should not regard a First Night's Audience as a 
candid and judicious friend attending, in behalf of the Public, 
at his last Rehearsal. If he can dispense with flattery, he is 
sure at least of sincerity, and even though the annotation be 
rude, he may rely upon the justness of the comment. Con- 
sidered in this light, that Audience, whose fiat is essential 
to the Poet's claim whether his object be Fame or Profit, 

1 virulence of Malice : The newspaper accounts of the first per- 
formance give ample testimony to this fact. " There seemed to be a 
little malice from one corner of the gallery, which shewed itself too 
early to produce any effect." — The Morning Chronicle (Jan. 20, 1775). 
" The first night of performing his comedy they took particular 
care to station the serpents of envy in every corner of the house." 
— The Morning Post (Jan. 31, 1775). "Several people in the galle- 
ries, who were evidently planted to disturb the performance, were 
turned out before the third act." — The London Chronicle (Jan. 21-24 9 
1775). 



4 PREFACE 

has surely a right to expect some deference to its opinion, 
from principles of Politeness at least, if not from Grati* 
tude. 

As for the little puny Critics who scatter their peevish 
strictures in private circles, and scribble at every Author 
who has the eminence of being unconnected with them, as 
they are usually spleen-swoln from a vain idea of increasing 
their consequence, there will always be found a petulance 
and illiberality in their remarks, which should place them as 
far beneath the notice of a Gentleman as their original dul- 
ness had sunk them from the level of the most unsuccessful 
Author. 

It is not without pleasure that I catch at an opportunity 
of justifying myself from the charge of intending any national 
reflection * in the character of Sir Lucius 0' Trigger. If any 
Gentlemen opposed the Piece from that idea, I thank them 
sincerely for their opposition ; and if the condemnation of 
this Comedy (however misconceived the provocation) could 
have added one spark to the decaying flame of national at- 
tachment to the country supposed to be reflected on, I should 
have been happy in its fate ; and might with truth have 
boasted that it had done more real service in its failure than 
the successful morality of a thousand stage-novels will ever 
effect. 

It is usual, I believe, to thank the Performers in a new 
Play for the exertion of their several abilities. But where 
(as in this instance) their merit has been so striking and 
un controverted as to call for the warmest and truest applause 
from a number of judicious Audiences, the Poet's after- 
praise comes like the feeble acclamation of a child to close 
the shouts of a multitude. The conduct, however, of the 
Principals in a Theatre cannot be so apparent to the Public* 
I think it, therefore, but justice to declare that from thiff 
Theatre (the only one I can speak of from experience) those 

1 national reflection : Some persons took offense at the char- 
acter of Sir Ijucius O' Trigger, seeing 1 in him an attack on the Irish 
nation. One correspondent, writing- to The Morning Post (Jan, 21, 
1175) says : " Sir Lucius O 1 Trigger was so ungenerous an attack upon 
a nation, that must justify any severity with which the piece will here 
after be treated : it is the first time I ever remember to have seen so 
villainous a portrait of an Irish Gentleman, permitted so openly to in- 
sult that country upon the boards of an English theatre. For the rest 
of the piece, the author has my pity , but for this unjustifiable attack, 
my warmest resentment." 



PREFACE 5 

Writers who wish to try the Dramatic Line will meet with 
that candour and liberal attention which are generally al- 
lowed to be better calculated to lead genius into excellence, 
tuan either the precepts of iud^ment, or the guidance of 
experience. 

The Authob* 



PROLOGUE 

BY THE AUTHOR 

Spoken by Mr. WOODWARD and Mr. QUICK 

Enter Serjeant at Law and Attorney. 

Serj. What's here ! — a vile cramp hand I I can* 
not see 
W ithout my spectacles. 

Att. [ Aside] He means his fee. 

Nay, Mr. Serjeant, good Sir, try again. [Gives money. 

Serj. The scrawl improves. [More] O come, 'tis 
pretty plain. 
How's this ? The Poet's Brief again ! O ho ! 5 

Cast, I suppose ? 

Att. O pardon me — No — No — 

We found the Court, o'erlooking stricter laws, 
Indulgent to the merits of the Cause ; 
By Judges mild, unus'd to harsh denial, 
A Rule was granted for another trial. 10 

Serj. Then heark'ee, Dibble, did you mend your 
Pleadings ? 
Errors, no few, we've found in our Proceedings. 

Serjeant at Law : a lawyer of the highest rank. Attor- 
ney: a legal agent who prepared the case (the brief) for the 
Serjeant at Law, but who did not have the privilege of pleading 
the case in open court. 

5. again: referring to the second production of the play ten 
nights after its failure. See the Introduction, p. x. 

6. Cast : defeated in a law suit. " I have resolved never to 
go to law with a beggar or a lord: the one will never be cast, 
and the other you will get nothing by casting." — Fielding, Tern* 
pie Beau (1730), quoted in N. E. D. 



PROLOGUE 7 

Att. Come, courage, Sir, we did amend our Plea^ 
Hence your neiv Brief] and this refreshing Fee. 
Some Sons of Phoebus in the Courts we meet. 15 

Serj. And fifty Sons of Phoebus in the Fleet ! 
Att. Nor pleads he worse, who with a decent sprig 
Of Bays adorns his legal waste of wig. 

Serj. Full-bottom'd Heroes thus, on signs, un- 
furl 
A leaf of laurel in a grove of curl ! 20 

Yet tell your Client, that, in adverse days, 
This Wig is warmer than a bush of Bays. 

Att. Do you, then, Sir, my Client's place supply, 
Profuse of robe, and prodigal of tye 

13. we did amend: i. e. the play has been revised. 

14. Later the Prologue was somewhat modifiecL Lines 5-14- 
were changed to read as follows : 

Hey ! how's this ? — Dibble ! — sure it cannot be ! 
A poet's brief ! a poet and a fee ! 

Att. Yes, sir ! though you without reward, I know, 
Would gladly plead the Muse's cause. 

Serj. So ! — so ! 

Att. And if the fee offends, your wrath should fall 
On me. 

Serj. Dear Dibble, no offence at all. 

15. Sons of Phoebus: poets. in the Courts: among the 
lawyers. 

16. in the Fleet : a pun, alluding to (1) the well-known 
prison for debtors, (2) the street of that name, the centre of the 
publishing trade, hence frequented by authors. 

18. sprig of Bays: poetry, wig: worn by English lawyers. 
The idea is, the lawyer who writes occasional verse is not on 
that account a worse lawyer. 

19. Full-bottom'd : a wig having a large bottom. The N. E. 
D. quotes (1711): " My Banker ever bows lowest to me when I 
wear my full-bottom'd wig." 

22. This "Wig is warmer than a bush of Bays: i. e. Law 
is a more lucrative profession than poetry. 



S PROLOGUE 

Do you, with all those blushing powers of face, ) 25 
And wonted bashful hesitating grace, > 

Rise in the Court, and flourish on the Case. ) 

[ExiU 

Serj. [Addressing the audience'] For practice^ 
then, suppose — this Brief will shew it, — 

Me, Serjeant Woodward, — Council for the Poet. 

Us'd to the ground — I know 'tis hard to deal 30 

With this dread Court, from whence there's no ap- 
peal ; 

No Tricking here, to blunt the edge of Law, 

Or, damn'd in Equity — escape by Flaw : 

But Judgment given — your Sentence must re- 
main ; 

— No Writ of Error lies — to Drury-lane ! 35 

Yet, when so kind you seem — 'tis past dispute 

We gain some favour, if not Costs of Suit. 

No spleen is here ! I see no hoarded fury ; 

--- I think I never fac'd a milder Jury ! 

Sad else our plight ! — where frowns are transporta- 
tion, 40 

A hiss the gallows, — and a groan, damnation ! 

30. Us'd to the ground: Woodward, who spoke these lines, 
was an experienced actor, at this time in his fifty-eighth year, 
hence well " us'd " to the stage. 

33. damn'd in Equity — escape by Flaw: i. e. damned 
according to justice, but allowed to escape because of some flaw 
in the legal proceedings. 

35. No "Writ of Error lies — to Drury-lane: i. e. If the 
author loses his case here in Covent Garden Theatre he cannot, 
on a writ of error (as having been unfairly tried), appeal to the 
other court, Drury Lane Theatre. At this time these were the 
two chief playhouses in London. 

40. transportation: At this time transportation to the col<* 
aies was frequently the punishment of convicts. 



PROLOGUE 9 

But such the public candour, without fear 

My Client waives all right of challenge here. 

No Newsman from our Session is dismiss'd, 

Nor Wit nor Critic we scratch off the list ; 45 

His faults can never hurt another's ease, 

His crime at worst — a bad attempt to please % 

Thus, all respecting, he appeals to all, 

And by the general voice will stand or fall. 

PROLOGUE 

BY THE AUTHOR 
Spoken on the tenth night, by Mrs. BULKLEY 

Granted our cause, our suit and trial o'er, 

The worthy Serjeant need appear no more : 

In pleading I a different client choose ; 

He served the Poet — I would serve the Muse. 

Like him, 111 try to merit your applause, I 

A female counsel in a female's cause. 

Look on this form, — where humour, quaint and sly, 
Dimples the cheek, and points the beaming eye ; 

43. right of challenge : the right that each party to a case 
has of refusing to allow a certain person or persons to sit in 
trial upon him or his cause. For good reasons such objectionable 
persons may be " dismissed/' or " scratched off the list." 

44. Newsman: newspaper critic. 

Prologue : This Prologue was first printed in the third edi- 
tion, 1776. 

Mrs. Bulkley : who acted the part of Julia. She was very 
successful in speaking Prologues and Epilogues. 

3. pleading : The printed form was " pleasing." Mr. Rae 
[Life, i, p. 288) gives the correct reading from a fragment in 
Sheridan's handwriting. 

7. Look on this form : Pointing to the figure of Comedy. 
In the Covent Garden Theatre two large figures, of Comedy and 



10 PROLOGUE 

Where gay invention seems to boast its wiles 
In amourous hint, and half-triumphant smiles ; 10 

While her light mask or covers satire's strokes, 
Or hides the conscious blush her wit provokes. 
Look on her well — does she seem form'd to teach ? 
Should you expect to hear this lady preach ? 
Is grey experience suited to her youth? 15 

Do solemn sentiments become that mouth? 
Bid her be grave, those lips should rebel prove 
To every theme that slanders mirth or love. 
Yet, thus adorn'd with every graceful art 

To charm the fancy and yet reach the heart 20 

Must we displace her, and instead advance 

The goddess of the wof ul countenance — 

The sentimental Muse ? — Her emblems view, 

The Pilgrim's Progress, and a sprig of rue ! 

View her — too chaste to look like flesh and blood — 25 

Primly portray'd on emblematic wood ! 

There, fix'd in usurpation, should she stand, 

She'll snatch the dagger from her sister's hand : 

And having made her votaries weep a flood, 

Good heaven ! she'll end her comedies in blood — 30 

Bid Harry Woodward break poor Dunstal's crown ! 

Imprison Quick, and knock Ned Shuter down ; 

of Tragedy, were placed on either side of the proscenium. For a 
picture of the stage see George Paston, Social Caricatures on the 
Eighteenth Century. 

24. Pilgrim's Progress: i. e. a moral lesson, one of the reg- 
wlar features of the sentimental play, sprig of rue: i. e. tears. 
Of- Goldsmith's query: " Which deserves the preference, — the 
weeping sentimental comedy so much in fashion at present, or 
the laughing, and even low comedy ? " See the Introduction, 
p. xviii. 

31. Woodward, Dunstal, etc.: leading actors in the play. 
See the Dramatis Personal. 



PROLOGUE 11 

While sad Barsanti, weeping o'er the scene, 
Shall stab herself — or poison Mrs. Green. 

Such dire encroachments to prevent in time, 35 
Demands the critic's voice — the poet's rhyme. 
Can our light scenes add strength to holy laws ? 
Such puny patronage but hurts the cause : 
Fair virtue scorns our feeble aid to ask ; 
And moral truth disdains the trickster's mask. 40 

For here their favourite stands, whose brow severe 
And sad, claims youth's respect, and pity's tear ; 
Who, when oppress'd by foes her worth creates, 
Can point a poniard at the guilt she hates. 

37. i. e. Can a comedy teach moral laws ? 
41. here : Pointing to Tragedy. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

MEN 

Sir Anthony Absolute , . Mr. Shuter. 

Capt. Absolute Mr. Woodward 

Faulkland Mr. Lewes. 

Acres , Mr. Quick. 

Sir Lucius O'Trigger Mr. Clinch. 1 

Fag Mr. Lee-Lewis. 

David Mr. Dunstal. 

Coachman Mr. Fearon. 

WOMEN 

Mrs. Malaprop Mrs. Green. 

Lydia Languish Miss Barsantt. 

Julia Mrs. Bulkley. 

Lucy Mrs. Lessingham. 

Maid, Boy, Servants, &c. 

SCENE, Bath. 
Time of Action, Five Hours. 



i- On the first night's performance this part was taken by Lee. See introdua 
Uon^ pp. viii, x. 



THE RIVALS 

ACT I 

Scene I. A Street in Bath 

Coachman crosses the stage. — Enter Fag, looking after him. 

Fag.^T\T KAT ! — Thom as ! — Sure 'tis he. ~~ 
V V What ! — Thomas ! — Thomas ! 

Coach. Hay ! — Odd's life ! — Mr. Fag ! — give us 
your hand, my old fellow-servant. 4 

Fag. Excuse my glove, Thomas. — I'm dev'lish 
glad to see you, my lad. Why, my prince of chariot- 
eers, you look as hearty ! — but who the deuce thought 
of seeing you in Bath ! 

Coach. Sure, Master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs. 
Kate, and the postilion be all come ! 10 

Fag. Indeed! 

Coach. Aye ! Master thought another fit of the gout 
was coming to make him a visit : — so he'd a mind to 
gi't the slip, and whip ! we were all off at an hour's 
warning. 15 

Fag. Aye, aye ! hasty in every thing, or it would 
not be Sir Anthony Absolute ! 

Coach. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young Mas* 
ter ? Odd ! Sir Anthony will stare to see the Captain 
here ! 20 

Fag. I do not serve Capt. Absolute now. 
3. Odd's : a corruption of " God's." 



14 THE RIVALS [Act I 

Coach. Why sure ! 

Fag. At present I am employ 'd by Ensign Bev- 
erley. 24 

Coach. I doubt, Mr. Fag, you ha'n't changed for 
the better. 

Fag. I have not changed, Thomas. 

Coach. No ! Why, didn't you say you had left 
young Master? 29 

Fag. No. — Well, honest Thomas, I must puzzle 
you no farther: — briefly then — Capt. Absolute and 
Ensign Beverley are one and the same person. 

Coach. The devil they are ! 

Fag. So it is indeed, Thomas ; and the Ensign 
half of my master being on guard at present — the 
Captain has nothing to do with me. 36 

Coach. So, so ! — What, this is some freak, I war- 
rant ! — Do tell us, Mr. Fag, the meaning o't — you 
know I ha' trusted you. 

Fag. You '11 be secret, Thomas ? 40 

Coach. As a coach-horse. 

Fag. Why then the cause of all this is — Love, 
— Love, Thomas, who (as you may get read to you) 
has been a masquerader ever since the days of Jupiter. 

Coach. Aye, aye ; — I guessed there was a lady [45 
in the case : — but pray, why does your Master pass 
only for Ensign ? — Now if he had shamm'd General, 
indeed 

Fag. Ah ! Thomas, there lies the mystery o' the 
matter. — Hark'ee, Thomas, my Master is in love [50 
with a lady of a very singular taste : a lady who likes 

44. Jupiter : well known for assuming disguises on his fre- 
quent love adventures. The sentence, however, is hardly appp'V 
priate in the mouth of Fag. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 15 

Jiim better as a half-pay Ensign than if she knew he 
was son and heir to Sir Anthony Absolute, a baronet 
with three thousand a-year ! 

Coach. That is an odd taste indeed ! — But has she 
got the stuff, Mr. Fag ? Is she rich, hey ? 56 

Fag. Rich ! — Why, I believe she owns half the 
stocks ! — Z — ds ! Thomas, she could pay the national 
debt as easy as I could my washerwoman ! — She has 
a lap-dog that eats out of gold, — she feeds her [60 
parrot with small pearls,— and all her thread-papers 
are made of bank-notes ! 

Coach. Bravo ! — Faith ! — Odd ! I warrant she has 
a set of thousands at least. But does she draw kindly 
with the Captain ? 65 

Fag. As fond as pigeons. 

Coach. May one hear her name ? 

Fag. Miss Lydia Languish. — But there is an old 
tough aunt in the way ; — though, by the by — she 
has never seen my Master — for he got acquainted 
with Miss while on a visit in Gloucestershire. 71 

Coach. Well — I wish they were once harness'd to- 
gether in matrimony. — But pray, Mr. Fag, what kind 
of a place is this Bath ? — I ha' heard a deal of it — 
Here's a mort o' merry-making — hey ? 75 

58. Z — ds : Zounds, contracted from " God's wounds." 

61. thread-papers : strips of thin, soft paper used for wrap- 
ping up skeins of thread. 

64. set : " Formerly used specifically of horses, to mean six 
as distinguished from a pair or four-in-hand." Cf. T. Lucas, in 
Ashton's Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne, I, iii : "He 
bought a most rich Coach and Curious Sett of Six Horses to it." 
Quoted from The Century Dictionary. — of thousands : costing 
thousands of guineas. 

75. mort : a great deal. 



16 THE RIVALS [Act I 

Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well — 'tis a 
good lounge. Though at present we are, like other 
great assemblies, divided into parties — High-roomians 
and Low-roomians. However, for my part, I have re- 
solved to stand neuter ; and so I told Bob Brush at 
our last committee. 81 

Coach. But what do the folks do here ? 

Fag. Oh! there are little amusements enough. — 
In the morning we go to the Pump-room (though 
neither my Master nor I drink the waters) ; [85 
after breakfast we saunter on the Parades, or play a 
game at billiards ; at night we dance. But d — n the 
place, I'm tired of it : their regular hours stupify me 
— ■ not a fiddle nor a card after eleven ! — How- 
ever Mr. Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it up [90 

78. High-roomians and Low-roomians : The two Bath 

assembly rooms were known as the " Lower Rooms " (kept by 
Gyde ; cf. 1. 125) and the " Upper Rooms " (kept by Hay ward). 
The latter were finished in 1771 at a cost of more than £20,000, 
and soon became very fashionable. For a time, however, the 
town was divided into factions over them. 

84. Pump-room : the room connected with the mineral 
spring, whither all persons resorted to drink the water and meet 
their friends. The building was erected in 1706, and enlarged in 
1751. " At eight in the morning we go in dishabille to the Pump- 
room, which is crowded like a Welsh fair ; and there you see the 
highest quality and the lowest tradesfolks jostling each other 
without ceremony, — hail fellow! well met ! The noise of the 
music playing in the gallery, the heat and flavour of such a 
crowd, and the hum and buzz of their conversation "... Smol- 
lett's Humphrey Clinker. 

86. Parades : (promenades) the Grand (or North) Parade, 
and the South Parade. See the map. 

89. not a fiddle nor a card after eleven : Bath was prima- 
rily a health resort, hence the regular and early hours, strictly 
observed. 

90. gentleman : servant, valet 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 17 

a little in private parties. — I'll introduce you there, 
Thomas — you'll like him much. 

Coach. Sure I know Mr. Du-Peigne — you know 
his Master is to marry Madam Julia. 94 

Fag. I had forgot. — But Thomas, you must polish 
a little — indeed you must. — Here now — this wig S 
what the devil do you do with a wig, Thomas ? — None 
of the London whips of any degree of Ton wear 
wigs now. 99 

Coach. More's the pity ! more's the pity, I say. — 
Odd's life ! wfien I heard how the lawyers and doctors 
had took to their own hair, I thought how 'twould go 
next : — Odd rabbit it ! when the fashion had got 
foot on the Bar, I guess'd 'twould mount to the Box ! 
— But 'tis all out of character, believe me, Mr. [105 
Fag : and look'ee, I'll never gi' up mine — the lawyers 
and doctors may do as they will. 

Fag. Well, Thomas, we'll not quarrel about that. 

Coach. Why, bless you, the gentlemen of the pro- 
fessions ben't all of a mind — for in our village [110 
now, tho'ff Jack Gauge, the exciseman, has ta'en to his 
carrots, there's little Dick, the farrier, swears he'll 
never forsake his bob, tho' all the college should ap- 
pear with their own heads ! 114 

Fag. Indeed ! well said, Dick ! But hold — mark ! 
mark ! Thomas. 

98. Ton : fashion, high style. 

103. Odd rabbit it : a meaningless oath. 

104. Box : the driver's seat. 

111. tho'ff : though. — exciseman : collector of excise du- 
ties, a revenue officer : hence the name " Gauge." 

112. his carrots : his natural head of red hair. 

113. bob : a wig having the bottom locks turned up into short 
curls. 



18 THE RIVALS [Act I 

Coach. Zooks ! 'tis the Captain ! — Is that the lady 
with him? 118 

Fag. No ! no ! that is Madam Lucy — my Master's 
mistress's maid. — They lodge at that house. — But I 
must after him to tell him the news. 

Coach. Odd ! he's giving her money ! — Well, Mr. 
Fag 123 

Fag. Good bye, Thomas. — I have an appointment 
in Gydes' Porch this evening at eight ; meet me there, 
and we'll make a little party. [Exeunt severally. 



SCENE II. A Dressing-room in Mrs. Malaprop's 
Lodgings. 

Lydia sitting on a sopha, with a book in her hand. — Lucy, as just returned 
from a message, 

Lucy. Indeed, Ma'am, I traversed half the town in 
search of it : — I don't believe there's a circulating 
library in Bath I ha'n't been at. 

Lyd. And could not you get "The Reward of Con- 
stancy f " 5 

Lucy. No, indeed, Ma'am. 

Lyd. Nor "The Fatal Connection?" 

Lucy. No, indeed, Ma'am. 

Lyd. Nor " The Mistakes of the Heart f " 9 

Lucy. Ma'am, as ill-luck would have it, Mr. Bull 
said Miss Sukey Saunter had just fetch'd it away. 

117. Zooks : u Gadzooks," a combination with God's; the 
second element is meaningless or corrupt. 

125. Gydes' Porch • The Lower Rooms ; see note to line 78, 
and map. 

10. Mr. Bull : a bookseller in Bath. (Nettleton.) 

11. Sukey : Perhaps the name " Bull " suggested this com- 
mon pet name for a cow. 



Scene II] THE RIVALS IS 

Lyd. Heigh-ho ! — Did you inquire for " The Deli- 
cate Distress ? " — 

Lucy. — Or "The Memoirs of Lady Woodford V y 
Yes indeed, Ma'am. — I ask'd every where for it ; [15 
and I might have brought it from Mr. Frederick' s 9 
but Lady Slattern Lounger, who had just sent it home, 
had so soiled and dog's-ear'd it, it wa'n't fit for a 
christian to read. 19 

Lyd. Heigho-ho ! — Yes, I always know when Lady 
Slattern has been before me. — She has a most ob- 
serving thumb; and I believe cherishes her nails for 
the convenience of making marginal notes. — Well, 
child, what have you brought me ? 24 

Lucy. Oh! here, ma'am. \_Tahing boohs from, 
under her cloke, and from her pockets.~] This is "The 
GordianKnot" — and this " Peregrine Dickie." Here 
are "The Tears of Sensibility " and " Humphry Clin- 
ker." This is " The Memoirs of a Lady of Quality, 
written by herself" — and here the second volume of 
"The Sentimental Journey." 31 

Lyd. Heigh-ho! — What are those books by the 
glass ? 

Lucy. The great one is only "The Whole Duty of 
Man" — where I press a few blonds, Ma'am. 35 

Lyd. Very well — give me the sal volatile. 

Lucy. Is it in a blue cover, Ma'am ? 

Lyd. My smelling bottle, you simpleton! 

Lucy. Oh, the drops! — here, Ma'am. 

Lyd. No note, Lucy ? 40 

16 Mr. Frederick : a Bath bookseller, and keeper of a cir- 
culating library. The subscription to these libraries was one 
crown a year. See Sichel, Sheridan, i, 201. 

35. blonds : a kind of silk lace. 



20 THE RIVALS [Act I 

Lucy, No, indeed, Ma'am — but I have seen a cer- 
tain person 

Lyd. What, my Beverley ! — Well, Lucy ? 

Lucy. O Ma'am ! he looks so desponding and mel- 
ancholic ! 45 

Lyd. Hold, Lucy ! — here 's some one coming — 
quick ! see who it is. — \JExit Lucy.] Surely I heard 
my cousin Julia's voice ! 

Re-enter Lucy. 

Lucy. Lud ! Ma'am, here is Miss Melville. 

Lyd. Is it possible ! 50 

Enter Julia. 

Lyd. My dearest Julia, how delighted am I! — 
[Embrace] How unexpected was this happiness ! 

Jul. True, Lydia — and our pleasure is the greater. 
— But what has been the matter ? — you were denied 
to me at first ! 55 

Lyd. Ah ! Julia, I have a thousand things to tell 
you ! — But first inform me what has conjur'd you to 
Bath ? — Is Sir Anthony here ? 

Jul. He* is — we are arrived within this hour — 
and I suppose he will be here to wait on Mrs. Mala- 
prop as soon as he is dress'd. 61 

Lyd. Then, before we are interrupted, let me im- 
part to you some of my distress ! — I know your gen- 
tle nature will sympathize with me, tho' your prudence 
may condemn me ! — My letters have inform'd [65 
you of my whole connexion with Beverley ; — but I 
have lost him, Julia ! — my aunt has discover'd our 
intercourse by a note she intercepted, and has confin'd 

me ever since ! Yet, would you believe it ? she has 

fallen absolutely in love with a tall Irish baronet [70 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 21 

she met one night since we have been here, at Lady 
Macshuffle's rout. 

Jul. You jest, Lydia ! 

Lyd. No, upon my word. — She absolutely carries 
on a kind of correspondence with him, under a [75 
feigned name though, till she chuses to be known to 
him ; — but it is a Delia or a Celia, I assure you. 

Jul. Then surely she is now more indulgent to her 
niece. 79 

Lyd. Quite the contrary. Since she has discov- 
ered her own frailty she is become more suspicious 
of mine. Then I must inform you of another plague ! 
— That odious Acres is to be in Bath to-day; so that 
I protest I shall be teased out of all spirits ! 84 

Jul. Come, come, Lydia, hope the best. — Sir 
Anthony shall use his interest with Mrs. Malaprop. 

Lyd. But you have not heard the worst. Unfor- 
tunately I had quarrell'd with my poor Beverley just 
before my aunt made the discovery, and I have not 
seen him since to make it up. 90 

Jul. What was his offence ? 

Lyd. Nothing at all! — But, I don't know how it 
was, as often as we had been together we had never 
had a quarrel ! — And somehow I was afraid he would 
never give me an opportunity. — So last Thursday [95 
I wrote a letter to myself to inform myself that Bev- 
erly was at that time paying his addresses to another 

72. rout : a social entertainment to which many guests are 
invited. 

97. paying his addresses to another woman : This pas- 
sage may have been suggested to Sheridan by a letter Miss Lin- 
ley had written him during their courtship : " Perhaps now 
whilst I am writing and amusing myself by expressing the ten- 
der sentiments which I feel for you, you are flirting with Miss 



22 THE RIVALS [Act 1 

woman. — I sign'd it your Friend unknown, shew'd 
it to Beverley, charg'd him with his falsehood, put 
myself in a violent passion, and vow'd I'd never see 
him more. 101 

Jul. And you let him depart so, and have not seen 
him since? 

Lyd. 'Twas the next day my aunt found the mat- 
ter out. I intended only to have teased him three 
days and a half, and now I've lost him for ever ! 106 

Jul. If he is as deserving and sincere as you have 
represented him to me, he will never give you up so. 
Yet consider, Lydia, you tell me he is but an ensign, 
and you have thirty thousand pounds ! 110 

Lyd. But you know I lose most of my fortune if I 
marry without my aunt's consent, till of age ; and that 
is what I have determin'd to do ever since I knew the 
penalty. — Nor could I love the man who would wish 
to wait a day for the alternative. 115 

Jul. Nay, this is caprice ! 

Lyd. What, does Julia tax me with caprice ? — I 
thought her lover Faulkland had enured her to it. 

Jul. I do not love even his faults. 119 

Lyd. But a-propos — you have sent to him, I sup- 
pose? 

Jul. Not yet, upon my word — nor has he the least 
idea of my being in Bath. — Sir Anthony's resolution 
was so sudden I could not inform him of it. 124 

Lyd. Well, Julia, you are your own mistress 

W. f or some other handsome girl, or making fine speeches to [il- 
legible] scold. I do not believe any such thing, but give me 
leave to doubt that I may with greater pleasure be convinced to 
the contrary." Rae, Sheridan, i, 189. 
100-6. This explains lines 44-5. 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 23 

(though under the protection of Sir Anthony), yet 
have you for this long year been the slave to the ca- 
price, the whim, the jealousy of this ungrateful Faulk- 
land, who will ever delay assuming the right of a hus- 
band, while you suffer him to be equally imperious a* 
a lover. 131 

Jul. Nay, you are wrong entirely. — We were con- 
tracted before my father's death. — That, and some 
consequent embarrassments, have delay'd what I know 
to be my Faulkland's most ardent wish. — He is [135 
too generous to trifle on such a point. — And for his 
character, you wrong him there too. — No, Lydia, he 
is too proud, too noble to be jealous. If he is captious, 
"tis without dissembling ; if fretful, without rudeness. 

— Unus'd to the foppery of love, he is negligent [140 
of the little duties expected from a lover — but being 
unhackney'd in the passion, his love is ardent and sin- 
cere ; and as it engrosses his whole soul, he expects 
every thought and emotion of his mistress to move in 
unison with his. — Yet, though his pride calls for [145 
this full return — his humility makes him undervalue 
those qualities in him which should entitle him to it ; 
and not feeling why he should be lov'd to the degree 
he wishes, he still suspects that he is not lov'd enoughc 

— This temper, I must own, has cost me many [150 
unhappy hours ; but I have learn'd to think myself 
his debtor for those imperfections which arise from 
the ardour of his love. 

Lyd. Well, I cannot blame you for defending him. 

— But tell me candidly, Julia, had he never sav'd [155 
your life, do you think you should have been attach'd 
to him as you are ? — Believe me, the rude blast that 

149. still : ever. 



24 THE RIVALS [Act I 

Dverset your boat was a prosperous gale of love to 
Mm ! 159 

Jul. Gratitude may have strengthened my attach- 
ment to Mr. Faulkland, but I lov'd him before he 
had preserv'd me ; yet surely that alone were an obli- 
gation sufficient. 

Lyd. Obligation ! — Why a water-spaniel would 
have done as much. — Well, I should never think [165 
of giving my heart to a man because he could swim ! 

Jul. Come, Lydia, you are too inconsiderate. 

Lyd. Nay, I do but jest. — What's here ? 

Enter Lucy in a hurry. 

Lucy. O Ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absolute just 

come home with your aunt. 170 

Lyd. They'll not come here. — Lucy do you watch. 

[Exit Lucy. 
Jul. Yet I must go. — Sir Anthony does not know 
I am here, and if we meet he'll detain me to shew me 
the town. — I'll take another opportunity of paying 
my respects to Mrs. Malaprop, when she shall [175 
treat me as long as she chooses with her select words 
so ingeniously misapplied, without being mispro- 
nounced. 

Re-enter Lucy. 

Lucy. O Lud ! Ma'am, they are both coming up 
stairs. 180 

Lyd. Well, I'll not detain you, Coz. — Adieu, my 

dear Julia. I'm sure you are in haste to send to 

Faulkland. — There — through my room you'll find 

another stair-case. 

176-8. A verbal reminiscence from his mother's comedy A 
Journey to Bath (i, 5, p. 273), in which Mrs. Try fort is de- 
scribed as " the fondest of hard words, which without mis* 
calling, she always takes care to misapply." 



Scene II] THE KIVALS 25 

Jul. Adieu. — [Embrace. Exit Julia. 185 

Lyd. Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books. — 
Quick, quick ! — Fling Peregrine Pickle under the 
toilet — throw Poderick Pandora into the closet — 
put The Innocent Adidtery into The Whole Duty o/ 
Man — thrust Lord Aimworih under the sopha — [190 
cram Ovid behind the bolster — there — put The Man 
of Feeling into your pocket — so, so, — now lay Mrs. 
Chapone in sight, and leave Fordyees Sermons open 
on the table. 

Lucy. O burn it, Ma'am ! the hair-dresser has torn 
away as far as Proper Pride. 196 

Lyd. Never mind — open at Sobriety. — Fling me 
Lord Chesterfield's Letters. — Now for 'em. 

Enter Mrs. Malaprop, and Sir Anthony Absolute. 

Mrs. Mai. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the de- 
liberate Simpleton, who wants to disgrace her family, 
and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling ! 201 

Lyd. Madam, I thought you once — 

Mrs. Mai. You thought, Miss ! — I don't know any 

193. Mrs. Chapone : Letters on the Improvement of the 
Mind. Addressed to a Young Lady. 2 vols., 1773. The letters, 
supposed to be written by an aunt to her niece, deal with such 
topics as : On the first principles of religion ; On the study of 
the Holy Scriptures ; On the regulation of the heart and affec- 
tions ; etc. — Fordyce's Sermons : Sermons to Young Women. 
2 vols., 1765. 

198. Lord Chesterfield's Letters : Letters written by the 
Earl of Chesterfield to his son, Philip Stanhope, published by 
Mrs. Eugenia Stanhope. 2 vols., 1774. Sheridan was interested 
in these letters, and wrote unpublished comments on them. See 
Sichel, Sheridan, i, 12. 

200. deliberate : cf. Mrs. Tryfort (A Journey to Bath, ii, 3, 
p. 285) : " Your lordship will excuse me for leaving you so de- 
liberately." 



26 THE RIVALS [Act I 

business you have to think at all — thought does not 
become a young woman. The point we would re- [205 
quest of you is that you will promise to forget this fel- 
low — to illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory. 

Lyd. Ah! Madam! our memories are independent 
of our wills. — It is not so easy to forget. 209 

Mrs. Mai. But I say it is, Miss. There is nothing 
on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to 
set about it. — I'm sure I have as much forgot your 
poor dear uncle as if he had never existed — and I 
thought it my duty so to do ; and let me tell you, 
Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young 
woman. 216 

Sir Anih. Why sure she won't pretend to remem- 
ber what she's order'd not ! — Aye, this comes of her 
reading ! 

Lyd. What crime, Madam, have I committed to 
be treated thus ? 221 

Mrs. Mai. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself 
from the matter ; you know I have proof controverti- 
ble of it. — But tell me, will you promise to do as 
you're bid ? — W ill you take a husband of your 
friends' choosing? 226 

Lyd. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that had I 
no preference for any one else, the choice you have 
made would be my aversion. 229 

Mrs. Mai. What business have you, Miss, with 
preference and aversion ? They don't become a young 
woman ; and you ought to know, that as both always 

204. does not become a young woman : this tag, so fre- 
quently used by Mrs. Malaprop, is Mrs. Tryfort's {A Journey to 
Bath, ii, 2, p. 284) : " taciturnity doesn't become a young man." 

207. illiterate : a word misused by Mrs. Tryfort. (A Jour* 
ney to Bath, ii, 2, p. 282.) 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 27 

wear off, 'tis safest in matrimony to begin with a 
little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear 
uncle before marriage as if he'd been a black-a- [235 
moor — and yet, Miss, you are sensible what a wife I 
made ! — and when it pleas'd Heav'n to release me 
from him, 'tis unknown what tears I shed ! — But 
suppose we were going to give you another choice, 
will you promise us to give up this Beverley? 240 

Lyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give 
that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie 
my words. 

Mrs. Mai. Take yourself to your room. — You are 
fit company for nothing but your own ill-humours. 245 

Lyd. Willingly, Ma'am. — I cannot change for the 
worse. [Exit Lydia. 

Mrs. Mai. There's a little intricate hussy for you ! 

Sir Anih. It is not to be wondered at, Ma'am — 
all this is the natural consequence of teaching [250 
girls to read. — Had I a thousand daughters, by 
Heavens ! I'd as soon have them taught the black-art 
as their alphabet ! 

Mrs. Mai. Nay, nay, Sir Anthony, you are an ab- 
solute misanthropy. 255 

Sir Anth. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I ob- 
served your niece's maid coming forth from a circulat- 
ing library ! — She had a book in each hand — they 
were half-bound volumes, with marbled covers ! — 
From that moment I guess'd how full of duty I should 
see her mistress ! 261 

250. teaching girls to read : Perhaps Sheridan had in mind 
his eccentric grandfather, Dr. Chamberlaine, who forbade his 
daughter to be taught the alphabet. (See Rae, Life, i, 37.) 

259. half-bound volumes, with marbled covers : cf. the 
modern phrase " yellow-backed novels." 



28 THE RIVALS [Act I 

Mrs. Mai. Those are vile places, indeed ! 

Sir Anth. Madam, a circulating library in a town 
is as an ever-green tree of diabolical knowledge ! ■ — It 
blossoms through the year ! — And depend on it, [265 
Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling 
the leaves, will long for the fruit at last, t... 

Mrs. Mai. Well, but Sir Anthony, your wife, Lady 
Absolute, was fond of books. 269 

Sir Anth. Aye — and injury sufficient they were 
to her, Madam. — But were I to chuse another help- 
mate, the extent of her erudition should consist in 
her knowing her simple letters, without their mis- 
chievous combinations ; — and the summit of her sci- 
ence be — her ability to count as far as twenty. [275 
— The first, Mrs. Malaprop, would enable her to work 
A. A. upon my linen ; — and the latter would be quite 
sufficient to prevent her giving me a shirt No. 1 and 
a stock No. 2. 279 

Mrs. Mai. Fie, fie, Sir Anthony, you surely speak 
laconically ! 

Sir Anth. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation 
now, what would you have a woman know ? 

Mrs. Mai. Observe me, Sir Anthony. — I would by 
no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny [285 
of learning ; I don't think so much learning becomes 
a young woman ; for instance — I would never let her 
meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or Algebra, or Si- 
mony, or Fluxions, or Paradoxes, or such inflamma- 

279. stock : a stiff band formerly worn by men about the 
neck, in place of the modern collar and cravat. 

285. progeny : Mrs. Tryfort (A Journey to Bath, ii, 2, p, 
282) : " Oh, in everything ma'am he is a progeny ! a perfect 
progeny, lady Filmot ! " 

289. Fluxions : a term in mathematics. 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 29 

tory branches of learning — neither would it be [290 
necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, 
astronomical, diabolical instruments ; — But, Sir An- 
thony, I would send her at nine years old to a board- 
ing-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and arti- 
fice. — Then, Sir, she should have a supercilious [295 
knowledge in accounts ; — and as she grew up, I 
would have her instructed in geometry, that she 
might know something of the contagious countries; 
- — but above all, Sir Anthony, she should be mis- 
tress of orthodoxy, that she might not mis-spell, [300 
and mis-pronounce words so shamefully as girls usually 
do; and likewise that she might reprehend the true 
meaning of what she is saying. — This, Sir Anthony, 
is what I would have a woman know ; — and I don't 
think there is a superstitious article in it. 305 

Sir Anth. Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute 
the point no further with you ; though I must confess 
that you are a truly moderate and polite arguer, for 
almost every third word you say is on my side of the 
question. — - But, Mrs. Malaprop, to the more im- [310 
portant point in debate, — you say you have no objec- 
tion to my proposal. 

Mrs. MaL None, I assure you. — I am under no 
positive engagement with Mr. Acres, and as Lydia is 
so obstinate against him, perhaps your son may have 
better success. 316 

294. ingenuity and artifice : Mrs. Try fort {A Journey to 
Bath, iii, 1, p. 299) : " He is so ingenious and full of his arti- 
fices." 

298. contagious countries : Mrs. Try fort (A Journey to 
Bath, iii, 1, p. 299) : " Oh, if you were to hear him describe 
contagious countries as I have done, it would astonish you e He 
is a perfect map of geography." 



30 THE RIVALS [Acta 

Sir Anth. Well, Madam, I will write for the boy 
directly. — He knows not a syllable of this yet, though 
I have for some time had the proposal in my head. He 
is at present with his regiment. 320 

Mrs. Mai. We have never seen your son, Sir An- 
thony ; but I hope no objection on his side. 

Sir Anth. Objection! — let him object if he dare ! 
— No, no, Mrs. Malaprop, Jack knows that the least 
demur puts me in a frenzy directly. My process [325 
was always very simple — in their younger days, 'twas 
4 Jack do this ' ; — if he demur 'd — I knock'd him 
down — and if he grumbled at that — I always sent 
him out of the room. 329 

Mrs. Mai. Aye, and the properest way, o' my con- 
science ! — nothing is so conciliating to young people 
as severity. — Well, Sir Anthony, I shall give Mr. 
Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your 
son's invocations ; — and I hope you will represent 
her to the Captain as an object not altogether illegi- 
ble. 336 

Sir Anth. Madam, I will handle the subject pru- 
dently. — Well, I must leave you — and let me beg 
you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundly to 
the girl ; — take my advice — keep a tight hand — [340 
if she rejects this proposal — clap her under lock and 
key ; — and if you were just to let the servants forget 

325. in a frenzy : this phrase, like Lydia's " Heigh-ho ! " 
and Mrs. Malaprop's " don't become a young woman," is a tag 
in the mouth of Sir Anthony. — My process, etc. : Mr. Sichel 
points out (Sheridan, i, 299) that this is a reminiscence from 
Sheridan and Halhed's unpublished farce Jupiter : " No, dammef 
my process is only this. ... If she refuses me, I knock her down 
and take it. And if she don 't like that, I drop her acquaintance." 

339. roundly : vigorously, without mincing matters. 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 31 

to bring her dinner for three or four days, you can't 
conceive how she'd come about ! [Exit Sir Anth. 

Mrs. Med. Well, at any rate I shall be glad to [345 
get her from under my intuition. — She has somehow 
discovered my partiality for Sir Lucius O 'Trigger — 
Sure Lucy can't have betray'd me ! — No, the girl is 
such a simpleton I should have made her confess it. — ■ 
Lucy ! — Lucy ! — [ Calls] Had she been one of [3£0 
your artificial ones I should never have trusted her. 

Enter Lucy. 

Lucy. Did you call, Ma'am ? 

Mrs. Mai. Yes, girl. — Did you see Sir Lucius 
while you was out? 354 

Lucy. No, indeed, Ma'am, not a glimpse of him. 

Mrs. Mai. You are sure, Lucy, that you never 
mention'd 

Lucy. O Gemini ! I'd sooner cut my tongue out. 

Mrs. Mai. Well, don't let your simplicity be im- 
pos'd on. 360 

Lucy. No, Ma'am. 

Mrs. Mai. So, come to me presently, and I'll give 
you another letter to Sir Lucius. — But mind Lucy — 
if ever you betray what you are entrusted with — (un- 
less it be other people's secrets to me) you forfeit [365 
my malevolence for ever : — and your being a simple- 
ton shall be no excuse for your locality. 

[Exit Mrs. Malaprop, 

Lucy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — So, my dear simplicity, let 
me give you a little respite. — [Altering her manner] 
— Let girls in my station be as fond as they [370 

358. Gemini : a mild form of oath, possibly corrupted from 
Jesu Bomine, possibly referring to the Heavenly Twins, Castor 
and Pollux. 



62 THE RIVALS [Act 1 

please of appearing expert, and knowing in their 
trusts — commend me to a mask of silliness, and a 
pair of sharp eyes for my own interest under it ! — 
Let me see to what account I have turn'd my sim- 
plicity lately — [Looks at a vaper] For abetting [375 
Miss Lydia Languish in a design of running away 
with an Ensign! — in money — sundry times — 
twelve pound twelve — gowns, jive — hats, ruffles, 
caps, &c. &c. — numberless ! — From the said En- 
sign, within this last month, six guineas and a [380 
half. — About a quarter's pay ! — Item, from Mrs. 
Malaprop,for betraying the young people to her — 
when I found matters were likely to be discovered — 
two guineas, and a black paduasoy. — Item, from 
Mr. Acres, for carrying divers letters — which [385 
I never deliver'd — two guineas, and a pair of 
buckles. — Item, from Sir Lucius (J Trigger — 
three crowns — two gold pocket-pieces — and a sil- 
ver snuff-box! — Well done, simplicity ! — Yet I was 
forced to make my Hibernian believe that he [390 
was corresponding, not with the Aunt, but with the 
Niece : for, though not over rich, I found he had too 
much pride and delicacy to sacrifice the feelings of a 
gentleman to the necessities of his fortune. [Exit. 

END OF THE FIRST ACT. 

384. paduasoy : a garment made of paduasoy, a fashionable 
silk fabric. 

388. crowns : a coin worth about $1.20. — pocket-pieces 2 
M lucky " coins carried about in the pocket. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 33 

ACT II. 

Scene I. Captain Absolute's Lodgings. 

Captain Absolute and Fag. 

Fag. S?r, while I was there Sir Anthony came in % 
I told him you had sent me to inquire after his health, 
and to know if he was at leisure to see you. 

Abs. And what did he say on hearing I was at 
Bath? 5 

Fag. Sir, in my life I never saw an elderly gentle- 
man more astonished ! He started back two or three 
paces, rapt out a dozen inter jectoral oaths, and asked 
what the devil had brought you here ! 

Abs. Well, Sir, and what did you say ? 10 

Fag. O, I lied, Sir — I forget the precise lie ; but 
you may depend on't, he got no truth from me. Yet, 
with submission, for fear of blunders in future, I 
should be glad to fix what has brought us to Bath, in 
order that we may lie a little consistently. — Sir [15 
Anthony's servants were curious, Sir, very curious 
indeed. 

Abs. You have said nothing to them ? 

Fag. O, not a word, Sir, — not a word. — Mr e 
Thomas, indeed, the coachman (whom I take to be 
the discreetest of whips) 21 

Abs. S'death ! — you rascal ! you have not trusted 
him ! 

Fag. O, no, Sir ! — no — no — not a syllable, upon 
my veracity ! — He was, indeed, a little inquisitive ; [25 
but I was sly, Sir — devilish sly ! — My Master (said 
22. S'death: God's death. 



34 THE RIVALS [Act II 

I), honest Thomas (yoii know, Sir, one says honest 
to one's inferiors), is come to Bath to recruit, — Yes, 
Sir — I said, to recruit — and whether for men, 
k money, or constitution, you know, Sir, is nothing to 
him, nor any one else. 31 

Abs. Well — recruit will do — let it be so — 

Fag. O, Sir, recruit will do surprisingly. — In- 
deed, to give the thing an air, I told Thomas that 
your Honour had already inlisted five disbanded [35 
chairmen, seven minority waiters, and thirteen bil- 
liard markers. 

Abs. You blockhead, never say more than is neces* 
sary. 39 

Fag. I beg pardon, Sir — I beg pardon. — But, 
with submission, a lie is nothing unless one supports 
it. — Sir, whenever I draw on my invention for a 
good current lie, I always forge indorsements, as well 
as the bill. 44 

Abs. Well, take care you don't hurt your credit by 
offering too much security. — Is Mr. Faulkland re- 
turned ? 

Fag. He is above, Sir, changing his dress. 

Abs. Can you tell whether he has been informed 
of Sir Anthony's and Miss Melville's arrival ? 50 

Fag. I fancy not, Sir ; he has seen no one since 
he came in, but his gentleman, who was with him at 

35-7. chairmen: men who carried sedan chairs, or wheeled 
invalids in Bath-c!>Mirs. — disbanded: out of employment. — 
minority waiters: " meaning obscure; by some explained as 
' a waiter out of work,' by others as * an extra-ordinary tide- 
waiter,' i. e. one not regularly employed." (N. E. /).) Here, 
in all probability, is meant " waiters out of work." — billiard- 
markers : Fag cites billiards as one of the regular amusements 
of the day (i, 1, 87). 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 35 

Bristol. — I think, Sir, I hear Mr. Faulkland coming 
down. 

Abs. Go tell him I am here. 55 

Fag. Yes, Sir. — [fomy] I beg pardon, Sir 9 but 
should Sir Anthony call, you will do me the favour to 
remember that we are recruiting, if you please. 

Abs. Well, well. 59 

Fag. And in tenderness to my character, if your 
Honour could bring in the chairmen and waiters, I 
shall esteem it as an obligation ; — for though I never 
scruple a lie to serve my Master, yet it hurts one's 
conscience to be found out. [Exit. 

Abs. Now for my whimsical friend. — If he [65 
does not know that his mistress is here, I '11 tease him 
a little before I tell him 

Enter Faulkland. 

Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath again ; you are 
punctual in your return. 69 

Faulk. Yes ; I had nothing to detain me when I had 
finished the business I went on. Well, what news 
<dnce I left you ? How stand matters between you 
and Lydia ? 

Abs. Faith, much as they were. I have not seen 
her since our quarrel ; however, I expect to be re- 
called every hour. 76 

Faulk. Why don't you persuade her to go off with 
you at once ? 

Abs. What, and lose two thirds of her fortune? 
You forget that, my friend. — No, no, I could have 
brought her to that long ago. 81 

Faulk. Nay then, you trifle too long. — If you are 
sure of Tier, propose to the aunt in your own charac- 
ter, and write to Sir Anthony for his consent. 84 



36 THE RIVALS [Act II 

Abs. Softly, softly, for though I am convinced my 
little Lydia would elope with me as Ensign Beverley, 
yet am I by no means certain that she would take 
me with the impediment of our friends' consent, a 
regular humdrum wedding, and the reversion of a 
good fortune on my side. No, no, I must prepare [90 
her gradually for the discovery, and make myself nec- 
essary to her, before I risk it. — Well, but Faulk- 
land, you'll dine with us to-day at the Hotel ? 

Faulk. Indeed, I cannot. I am not in spirits to be 
of such a party. 95 

Abs. By Heavens ! I shall forswear your company. 
You are the most teasing, captious, incorrigible lover ! 

— Do love like a man ! 

Faulk. I own I am unfit for company. 99 

Abs. Am not / a lover; aye, and a romantic one 
too ? Yet do I carry every where with me such a con- 
founded farago of doubts, fears, hopes, wishes, and 
all the flimsy furniture of a country Miss's brain ? 

Faulk. Ah! Jack, your heart and soul are not, 
like mine, fixed immutably on one only object. [105 

— You throw for a large stake, but losing — you could 
stake, and throw again : — but I have set my sum of 
happiness on this cast, and not to succeed were to be 
stript of all. 109 

A bs. But, for Heaven's sake ! what grounds for ap- 
prehension can your whimsical brain conjure up at pre- 
sent ? Has Julia miss'd writing this last post ? or was 
her last too tender, or too cool ; or too grave, or too gay; 
or 

89. reversion: a legal term, "the right of succeeding to, or 
next occupying, an estate." 

102. farago: hotchpotch, confused mixture. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 31 

Faulk. Nay, nay, Jack. 115 

Abs. Why, her love — her honour — her prudence, 
you cannot doubt. 

Faulk. O ! upon my soul, I never have - — But 
what grounds for apprehension did you say ? Heavens ! 
are there not a thousand ! I fear for her spirits [120 
« — her health — her life. — My absence may fret her \ 
her anxiety for my return, her fears for me, may op- 
press her gentle temper. And for her health — doe? 
not every hour bring me cause to be alarmed ? If it 
rains, some shower may even then have chilled her [125 
delicate frame! — If the wind be keen, some rude 
blast may have affected her ! The heat of noon, the 
dews of the evening, may endanger the life of her, for 
whom only I value mine. O ! Jack, when delicate and 
feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature [130 
in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an 
aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a 
lover's apprehension ! 

Abs. Aye, but we may choose whether we will take 
the hint or no. — Well then, Faulkland, if you [135 
were convinced that Julia was well and in spirits, you 
would be entirely content? 

Faulk. I should be happy beyond measure — I'm 
anxious only for that. 139 

Abs. Then to cure your anxiety at once — Miss 
Melville is in perfect health, and is at this moment 
in Bath ! 

Faulk. Nay, Jack — don't trifle with me. 

Abs. She is arrived here with my father within 
this hour. 145 

Faulk. Can you be serious ? 

Abs. I thought you knew Sir Anthony better than 



38 THE RIVALS [Act II 

to be surprised at a sudden whim of this kind. — Se- 
riously then, it is as I tell you — upon my honour. 

Faulk. My dear friend ! — Hollo, Du-Peigne ! [150 
my hat. — My dear Jack - — now nothing on earth 
can give me a moment *s uneasiness. 

Enter Fag. 

Fag. Sir, Mr. Acres just arrived is below. 

A bs. Stay, Faulkland, this Acres lives within a mile 
of Sir Anthony, and he shall tell you how your [155 
mistress has been ever since you left her. — Fag, show 
the gentleman up. [Exit Fag. 

Faulk. What, is he much acquainted in the family? 

Abs. O, very intimate. I insist on your not going : 
besides, his character will divert you. 160 

Faulk. Well, I should like to ask him a few ques- 
tions. 

Abs. He is likewise a rival of mine — that is of 
my other selfs, for he does not think his friend Capt. 
Absolute ever saw the lady in question ; — and [165 
it is ridiculous enough to hear him complain to me 
of one Beverley, a concealed sculking rival, who 

Faulk. Hush ! — He's here. 

Enter Acres. 

Acres. Hah ! my dear friend, noble captain, and 
honest Jack, howdo'st thou? Just arrived, faith, [170 
as you see. — Sir, your humble servant. Warm work 
on the roads, Jack ! — Odds, whips and wheels ! I've 
travelled like a Comet, with a tail of dust all the way 
as long as the Mall. 174 

Abs. Ah ! Bob, you are indeed an excentric Planet; 
but we know your attraction hither. — Give me leave 

174» the Mall: the fashionable promenade in St. James'f 
Park, London. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 39 

to introduce Mr. Faulkland to you. Mr. Faulkland, 
Mr. Acres. 

Acres. Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you : Sir, 
I solicit your connections. — Hey Jack, — what, — 
this is Mr. Faulkland, who ? 18/ 

Abs. Aye, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr. Faulkland. 

Acres. Od'so ! she and your father can be but just 
arrived before me : — I suppose you have seen them. 

Ah! Mr. Faulkland, you are indeed a happy 

man. 186 

Faulk. I have not seen Miss Melville yet, Sir. — 
I hope she enjoyed full health and spirits in Devon- 
shire ? 189 

Acres. Never knew her better in my life, Sir, — 
never better. — Odd's Blushes and Blooms ! she has 
been as healthy as the German Spa. 

Faulk. Indeed ! — I did hear that she had been a 
little indisposed. 194 

Acres. False, false, Sir — only said to vex you: 
quite the reverse, I assure you. 

Faulk. There, Jack, you see she has the advantage 
of me ; I had almost fretted myself ill. 

Abs. Now are you angry with your mistress for 
not having been sick. 200 

Faulk. No, no, you misunderstand me : — yet 
surely a little trifling indisposition is not an unnatural 
consequence of absence from those we love. — Now 
confess — isn't there something unkind in this vio- 
lent, robust, unfeeling health ? 205 



192. German Spa: The oldest, and formerly one of the best 
known of the large European watering-places; just across the 
German border, hi the province of Liege, Belgium. 



40 THE RIVALS [Act II 

Abs. O, it was very unkind of her to be well in 
your absence, to be sure ! 

Acres. Good apartments, Jack. 

Faulk. Well Sir, but you were saying that Miss 
Melville has been so exceedingly well — what, [210 
then, she has been merry and gay, I suppose ? — Al- 
ways in spirits — hey? 

Acres. Merry ! Odds crickets ! she has been the 
belle and spirit of the company wherever she has been 
— so lively and entertaining ! so full of wit and hu- 
mour ! 216 

Faulk. There, Jack, there ! — O, by my soul ! there 
is an innate levity in woman, that nothing can over- 
come. — What ! happy and I away ! 219 

Abs. Have done. How foolish this is ! Just now 
you were only apprehensive for your mistress's spir- 
its. 

Faulk. Why, Jack, have I been the joy and spirit 
of the company ? 

Abs. No, indeed, you have not. 225 

Faulk. Have I been lively and entertaining? 

Abs. O, upon my word, I acquit you. 

Faulk. Have I been full of wit and humour? 

Abs. No, faith; to do you justice, you have been 
confounded stupid indeed. 230 

Acres. What 's the matter with the gentleman ? 

Abs. He is only expressing his great satisfaction at 
hearing that Julia has been so well and happy — 
that's all — hey, Faulkland ? 234 

Faulk. Oh ! I am rejoiced to hear it — yes, yes, 
she has a happy disposition ! 

213. crickets: a mild form of oath, suggested to Acres by 
the phrase " as merry as a cricket." 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 41 

Acres. That she has indeed. — Then she is so ac- 
complished — so sweet a voice — so expert at her 
Harpsic! iord — such a mistress of flat and sharp, squal- 
iante, rumblante, and quiverante ! — there was [240 
this time month. — Odds Minnums and Crotchets ! 
how she did chimp at Mrs. Piano's Concert ! 

Faulk. There again, what say you to this? You 
see she has been all mirth and song — not a thought 
of me! 245 

Abs. Pho ! man, is not music the food of love ? 

Faulk. Well, well, it may be so. — Pray, Mr. 

what 's his d — d name ? — Do you remember what 
Songs Miss Melville sung ? 

Acres. Not I, indeed. 250 

Abs. Stay now, they were some pretty, melancholy, 
purling-stream airs, I warrant ; perhaps you may re- 
collect ; — did she sing — " When absent from my 
soul's delight " f 

Acres. No, that wa'n't it. 255 

Abs. Or — " Go, gentle Gales " ? " Go, gen- 
tle Gales!" \_Sings.~\ 

Acres. O no ! nothing like it. — Odds slips ! now 

239. squallante, rumblante, quiverante : words humor- 
ously coined as musical terms after andante. 

241. Minnums and Crotchets: terms in music applied to 
notes of certain values. 

246. music the food of love: Twelfth Night, I, i, 1: "If 
music be the food of love." 

256. Go, gentle Gales : Professor Nettleton points out that 
this is the refrain of the song, The faithful lover, given in Clio and 
Euterpe, or British Harmony (1762), vol. iii, p. 1: — 

Go, gentle gales, 
Go, bear my sighs away, 

And to my love, 
The tender notes convey. 



42 THE RIVALS TAct H 

I recollect one of them — " My heart's my own^ my 
will is free''' \_Sings.~] 260 

Faulk. Fool ! fool that I am ! to fix all my hap- 
piness on such a trifler ! S' death ! to make herself 
the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle ! to sooth her 
light heart with catches and glees ! — What can you 
say to this, Sir ? 265 

Abs. Why, £hat I should be glad to hear my mis- 
tress had been so merry, Sir. 

Faulk. Nay, nay, nay — I am not sorry that she 
has been happy — no, no, I am glad of that — I 
would not have had her sad or sick — yet surely [270 
a sympathetic heart would have shewn itself even in 
the choice of a song — she might have been temper- 
ately healthy, and, somehow, plaintively gay ; — but 
sh6 has been dancing too, I doubt not ! 274 

Acres. What does the gentleman say about danc- 
ing? 

Abs. He says the lady we speak of dances as well 
as she sings. 

Acres. Aye, truly, does she. — There was at our 
last race-ball 280 

Faulk. Hell and the devil ! There ! there ! — I told 
you so ! I told you so ! Oh ! she thrives in my ab- 
sence ! — Dancing ! — but her whole feelings have 
been in opposition with mine ! — I have been anxious, 
silent, pensive, sedentary — my days have been [285 
hours of care, my nights of watchfulness. — She has 

259. My heart's my own, etc.: from Love in a Village, a 
comic opera by Isaac Bickerstaffe. (Nettleton.) 

264. catches and glees: musical compositions for three or 
more voices, and generally of a sprightly nature. 

280. race-ball: a ball held on the occasion of a race meeting, 
hence very lively in nature. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 43 

been all Health ! Spirit ! Laugh ! Song ! Dance ! — - 
Oh ! d— n'd, d— n'd levity ! 

A bs. For Heaven's sake ! Faulkland, don't expose 
yourself so. — Suppose she has danced, what [290 
then ? — Does not the ceremony of society often 
oblige 

Faulk. Well, well, I '11 contain myself. — Per- 
haps, as you say — for form sake. — What, Mr. Acres, 
you were praising Miss Melville's manner of danc- 
ing a minuet — hey ? 296 

Acres. Oh I dare insure her for that — but what 
I was going to speak of was her country dancing: — 
Odds swimmings ! she has such an air with her ! — 

Faulk. Now disappointment on her ! — De- [300 
fend this, Absolute, why don't you defend this ? — 
Country-dances ! jiggs, and reels ! Am I to blame now ? 
A Minuet I could have forgiven — I should not have 
minded that — I say I should not have regarded a 

Minuet — but Country -dances ! Z ds ! had [305 

she made one in a Cotillon — I believe I could have 
forgiven even that — but to be monkey-led for a 
night ! — to run the gauntlet thro' a string of amo- 
rous palming puppies ! — to show paces like a man- 
aged filly! — O Jack, there never can be but [310 
one man in the world whom a truly modest and deli- 
cate woman ought to pair with in a Country-dance ; 
and even then, the rest of the couples should be her 
great uncles and aunts! 314 

296. minuet: a dance conspicuous for its slow and stately 
measures. 

299. swimmings: dizziness, a "referential" oath, suggested 
by " Country-dances ! jiggs, and reels ! " 

309. managed: (of a horse) trained in his paces. 



44 THE RIVALS [Act II 

Abs. Aye, to be sure ! — grand-fathers and grand- 
mothers ! 

Faulk. If there be but one vicious mind in the Set, 
'twill spread like a contagion — the action of their 
jpulse beats to the lascivious movement of the jigg — 
their quivering, warm-breath'd sighs impregnate [320 
the very air — the atmosphere becomes electrical to 
love, and each amorous spark darts thro' every link 
of the chain ! — I must leave you — I own I am 
somewhat flurried — and that confounded looby has 
perceived it. • [Going. [325 

Abs. Aye, aye, you are in a hurry to throw your- 
self at Julia's feet. 

Faulk. I'm not in a humour to be trifled with. — 
I shall see her only to upbraid her. [Going. 

Abs. Nay, but stay, Faulkland, and thank Mr. Acres 
for his good news. 331 

Faulk. D n his news ! [Exit Faulkland. 

Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Poor Faulkland ! Five minutes 
since — " nothing on earth could give him a moment's 
uneasiness ! " 335 

Acres. The gentleman wa'n't angry at my praising 
his mistress, was he ? 

Abs. A little jealous, I believe, Bob. 

Acres. You don't say so? Ha! ha! jealous of me? 
— that's a good joke. 340 

Abs. There's nothing strange in that, Bob : let me 
tell you, that sprightly grace and insinuating manner 
of your's will do some mischief among the girls here. 

Acres. Ah ! you joke — ha ! ha ! — mischief — ha! 
ha ! But you know I am not my own property ; [345 
my dear Lydia has forestalled me. — She could never 
324. looby: a stupid, clownish person. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 45 

abide me in the country, because I used to dress so 
badly — but odds frogs and tambours ! I shan't take 
matters so here — now ancient Madam has no voice 
in it. — I'll make my old clothes know who's [350 
master. — I shall straitway cashier the hunting-frock 

— and render my leather breeches incapable. — My 
hair has been in training some time. 

Abs. Indeed! 354 

Acres. Aye — and tho'ff the side-curls are a little 
restive, my hind-part takes to it very kindly. 

Abs. O, you'll polish, I doubt not. 

Acres. Absolutely I propose so. — Then if I can 
find out this Ensign Beverley, odds triggers and flints ! 
I'll make him know the difference o't. \ / 360 

Abs. Spoke like a man. — But pray, Bob, I observe 
you have got an odd kind of a new method of swear- 
ing 

Acres. Ha ! ha ! you've taken notice of it ? — 'Tis 
genteel, isn't it? — I didn't invent it myself, [365 
though; but a commander in our militia — a great 
scholar, I assure you — says that there is no meaning 
in the common oaths, and that nothing but their an- 
tiquity makes them respectable ; — because, he says, 
the ancients would never stick to an oath or two, [370 
but would say, by Jove ! or by Bacchus ! or by Mars ! 
or by Venus ! or by Pallas ! according to the sentiment; 

— so that to swear with propriety, says my little Ma- 

348. frogs: ornamental fastenings used on military coats. — 
tambours: fancy embroideries. 

352-356. My hair, etc.: "Here Acres removes his cap, and 
shows his side-curls in papers. After his next speech, he turns his 
back to the audience to show his back-hair elaborately dressed.'* 
(Brander Matthews.) 

355. tho'ff: though. 



46 THE EIVALS [Act II 

jor, the " oath should be an echo to the sense " ; and 
this we call the oath referential, or sentimental swear- 
ing — ha ! ha ! ha ! 'Tis genteel, isn't it? 376 

Abs. Very genteel, and very new, indeed — and I 
dare say will supplant all other figures of impreca- 
tion. 

Acres. Aye, aye, the best terms will grow obsolete. 

D — ns have had their day. 381 

Enter Fag. 

Fag. Sir, there is a gentleman below desires to 
see you. — Shall I show him into the parlour ? 

Abs. Aye — you may. 

Acres. Well, I must be gone 385 

Abs. Stay; who is it, Fag? 

Fag. Your father, Sir. 

Abs. You puppy, why didn't you shew him up di- 
rectly? [Exit Fag. [389 

Acres. You have business with Sir Anthony. — J 
expect a message from Mrs. Malaprop at my lodg- 
ings. — I have sent also to my dear friend, Sir Lu- 
cius O'Trigger. — Adieu, Jack ! We must meet at 
night. — Odds bottles and glasses ! you shall give me 
a dozen bumpers to little Lydia. 395 

Abs. That I will, with all my heart. [Exit Acres. 

Abs. Now for a parental lecture. — I hope he has 
heard nothing of the business that has brought me 
here. — I wish the gout had held him fast in Devon- 
shire, with all my soul ! 400 

Enter Sir Anthony. 

Abs. Sir, I am delighted to see you here, and look- 

374. the oath should be an echo to the sense: an obvious 
parody of a line in Pope'.> Essay on Criticism: "The sound must 
seem an echo to the sense/' 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 4? 

ing so well ! — Your sudden arrival at Bath made me 
apprehensive for your health. 

Sir Anth. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. 
— What, you are recruiting here, hey ? 405 

Abs. Yes, Sir, I am on duty. 

Sir Anth. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, tho ? 
I did not expect it, for 1 was going to write to you on 
a little matter of business. — Jack, I have been con- 
sidering that I grow old and infirm, and shall pro- 
bably not trouble you long. 411 

Abs. Pardon me, Sir, I never saw you look more 
strong and hearty ; and I pray frequently that you 
may continue so. 414 

Sir Anth. I hope your prayers may be heard with 
all my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been con- 
sidering that I am so strong and hearty, I may con- 
tinue to plague you a long time. — Now, Jack, I am 
sensible that the income of your commission, and what 
I have hitherto allowed you, is but a small pittance 
for a lad of your spirit. 421 

Abs. Sir, you are very good. 

Sir Anth. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to 
have my Boy make some figure in the world. — I 
have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a noble 
independence. 426 

Abs. Sir, your kindness overpowers me. — Such 
generosity makes the gratitude of reason more lively 
than the sensations even of filial affection. 429 

Sir Anth. I am glad you are so sensible of nrv 
attention — and you shall be master of a large es 
tate in a few weeks. 

Abs. Let my future life, Sir, speak my gratitude : 
I cannot express the sense I have of your munificence. 



48 THE RIVALS [Act II 

Yet, Sir, I presume you would not wish me to 

quit the army ? 436 

Sir Anth. O, that shall be as your wife chooses. 

Abs. My wife, Sir ! 

Sir Anth. Aye, aye, — settle that between you -*• 
settle that between you. 441 

Abs. A wife, Sir, did you say ? 

Sir Anth. Aye, a wife — why, did not I mention 
her before ? 

Abs. Not a word of it, Sir. 444 

Sir Anth. Odd so! — I mus'n't forget her, tho\ 
• — Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by 
a marriage — the fortune is saddled with a wife. — 
But I suppose that makes no difference. 

Abs. Sir ! Sir ! — you amaze me ! 449 

Sir Anth. Why, what the d -l's the matter with 

the fool? Just now you were all gratitude and duty. 

Abs. I was, Sir. — You talked to me of indepen- 
dence and a fortune, but not a word of a wife. 

Sir Anth. Why — what difference does that make ? 
Odds life, Sir ! if you have the estate, you must take 
it with the live stock on it, as it stands. 456 

Abs. If my happiness is to be the price, I must 
beg leave to decline the purchase. — Pray, Sir, who is 
the lady ? 459 

Sir Anth. What's that to you, Sir ? — Come, give 
me your promise to love, and to marry her directly. 

455-456. if . . . stands: A reminiscence of Foote's Maid 
of Bath, of which Miss Linley, Sheridan's wife, was the heroine. 
Mrs. Linnet (= Mrs. Linley) says to her daughter, who objects 
to marrying' a wealthy suitor with ten thousand pounds a year 
(ii, 1): " Would you refuse an estate, because it happen'd to be 
a little encumber'd ? you must consider the man in this case as a, 
kind of mortgage." 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 49 

Abs. Sure, Sir, this is not very reasonable, to sum- 
mon my affections for a lady I know nothing of ! 

Sir Anth. I am sure, Sir, 'tis more unreasonable in 
you to object to a lady you know nothing of. 465 

Abs. Then, Sir, I must tell you plainly that my 
inclinations are fix'd on another. 

Sir Anih. They are, are they ? Well, that's luck; 
— because you will have more merit in your obedience 
to me. 470 

Abs. Sir, my heart is engaged to an Angel. 

Sir Anth. Then pray let it send an excuse. It 

is very sorry — but business prevents its waiting on 
her. 

Abs. But my vows are pledged to her. 475 

Sir Anth. Let her foreclose, Jack ; let her fore- 
close ; they are not worth redeeming: besides, you have 
the Angel's vows in exchange, I suppose ; so there can 
be no loss there. 

Abs. You must excuse me, Sir, if I tell you, once 
for all, that in this point I cannot obey you. 481 

Sir Anth. Hark'ee, Jack ; — I have heard you for 
some time with patience — I have been cool — quite 
cool; — but take care — you know I am compliance 
itself — when I am not thwarted ; — no one [485 
more easily led — when I have my own way; — but 
don't put me in a frenzy. 

Abs. Sir, I must repeat it — in this I cannot obey 
you. 

Sir Anth. Now, d — n me ! if ever I call you Jack 
again while I live ! 491 

Abs. Nay, Sir, but hear me. 

Sir Anth. Sir, I won't hear a word — not a word ! 
not one word ! so give me your promise by a nod — 



50 THE RIVALS [Act II 

and I'll tell you what, Jack — I mean, you Dog — if 
you don't, by 496 

Abs. What, Sir, promise to link myself to some 
mass of ugliness ! to 

Sir Anth. Z ds ! sirrah! the lady shall be as 

ugly as I choose : she shall have a hump on each [500 
shoulder ; she shall be as crooked as the Crescent ; her 
one eye shall roll like the Bull's in Coxe's museum — 
she shall have a skin like a mummy, and the beard of 
a Jew — she shall be all this, sirrah ! — yet I '11 make 
you ogle her all day, and sit up all night to write son- 
nets on her beauty. 506 

Abs. This is reason and moderation indeed ! 

Sir Anth. None of your sneering, puppy ! no grin- 
ning, jackanapes ! 

Abs. Indeed, Sir, I never was in a worse humour 
for mirth in my life. 511 

Sir Anth. "Tis false, Sir ! I know you are laughing 
in your sleeve ; I know you'll grin when I am gone, 
sirrah ! 

Abs. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. 515 

Sir Anth. None of your passion, Sir ! none of your 
violence ! if you please. — It won't do with me, ' I 
promise you. 

Abs. Indeed, Sir, I never was cooler in my life. 

Sir Anth. 'Tis a confounded lie ! — I know [520 
you are in a passion in your heart ; I know you are, 
you hypocritical young dog ! But it won't do. 

Abs. Nay, Sir, upon my word. 

502. the Bull's in Coxe's museum : Mr. James Cox, a 
jeweler of London, exhibited various mechanical curiosities in 
Bath in 1773-4. Among these was "The Curious Bull." 

509. jackanapes: monkey. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 51 

Sir Anth. So you will fly out ! Can't you be cool, 
like me ? What the devil good can Passion do ! [525 
- — Passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent, 
overbearing Reprobate ! — - There you sneer again ! — 
don't provoke me ! — But you rely upon the mildness 
of my temper — you do, you Dog ! you play upon 
the weakness of my disposition ! Yet take care [530 

— the patience of a saint may be overcome at last ! 

— but mark ! I give you six hours and a half to 
consider of this : if you then agree, without any con- 
dition, to do every thing on earth that I choose, why 

— confound you ! I may in time forgive you [535 

If not, z ds ! don't enter the same hemisphere 

with me ! don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the 
same light with me; but get an atmosphere and a sun 
of your own ! I'll strip you of your commission ; I'll 
lodge a five-and-threepence in the hands of trust- [540 
ees, and you shall live on the interest. — I'll disown 
you, I'll disinherit you, I'll unget you ! and — d — n 
me, if ever I call you Jack again ! [Exit Sir Anthony. 

Absolute, solus. 

Abs. Mild, gentle, considerate father — I kiss your 
hands. — What a tender method of giving his [545 
opinion in these matters Sir Anthony has ! I dare not 
trust him with the truth. — I wonder what old wealthy 
Hag it is that he wants to bestow on me ! — Yet he 
married himself for love ! and was in his youth a bold 
Intriguer, and a gay Companion ! 550 

Enter Fag. 

Pag. Assuredly, Sir, our Father is wrath to a de» 
gree. He comes down stairs eight or ten steps at a 
time — muttering, growling, and thumping the ban- 
msters all the way : I, and the Cook's dog, stand bow- 



52 THE RIVALS [Act II 

ing at the door — rap ! he gives me a stroke on [555 
the head with his cane ; bids me carry that to my 
master ; then kicking the poor Turnspit into the area, 
d — ns us all for a puppy triumvirate ! — Upon my 
credit, Sir, were I in your place, and found my father 
such very bad company, I should certainly drop his 
acquaintance. [561 

Abs. Cease your impertinence, Sir, at present. — 
Did you come in for nothing more? — Stand out of 

the Way ! [Pushes him aside, and exit.] 564 
Fag, solus. 
Fag. Soh ! Sir Anthony trims my Master. He is 
afraid to reply to his Father — then vents his spleen 
on poor Fag ! — When one is vexed by one person, to 
revenge one's self on another who happens to come in 
the way — is the vilest injustice ! Ah ! it shows the 
worst temper — the basest 570 

Enter Errand-Boy. 

Boy. Mr. Fag ! Mr. Fag ! your Master calls you. 

Fag. Well, you little, dirty puppy, you need not 
baul so ! — The meanest disposition ! the 

Boy. Quick, quick, Mr. Fag ! 574 

Fag. Quick, quick, you impudent Jackanapes ! am 
I to be commanded by you too ? you little, imperti- 
nent, insolent, kitchen-bred 

[Exit, kicking and beating him. 

Scene II. The North Parade. 
Enter Lucy. 

Lucy. So — I shall have another Rival to add to 
my mistress's list — Captain Absolute. However, 

557. Turnspit: a kind of small dog, so named because for- 
merly he was made to turn the spit on which meat was roasting. 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 53 

I shall not enter his name till my purse has received 
notice in form. Poor Acres is dismissed! — Well, I 
have done him a last friendly office in letting him [5 
know that Beverley was here before him. — Sir Lucius 
is generally more punctual when he expects to hear 
from his dear Dalia, as he calls her : — I wonder he's 
not here ! — I have a little scruple of conscience from 
this deceit; tho' I should not be paid so well, if [10 
my hero knew that Delia was near fifty, and her own 
mistress. — I could not have thought he would have 
been so nice, when there's a golden egg in the case, 
as to care whether he has it from a pullet or an old 
hen ! IS 

Enter Sir Lucius 0' Trigger. 

Sir Luc, Hah ! my little embassadress — upon my 
conscience, I have been looking for you. I have been 
on the South Parade this half -hour. 

Lucy. [Speaking simply'] O gemini ! and I have 
been waiting for your worship here on the North. 20 

Sir Luc. Faith ! — may be that was the reason we 
did not meet ; and it is very comical, too, how you 
could go out and I not see you — for I was only tak- 
ing a nap at the Parade Coffee-house, and I chose the 
window on purpose that I might not miss you. 25 

Lucy^ My stars ! Now I'd wager a six-pence I 
went by while you were asleep. 

Sir Luc. Sure enough it must have been so — and 
I never dreamt it was so late, till I waked. Well, but 
my little girl, have you got nothing for me? 30 

3. till my purse has received notice in form : until I have 
received my bribe. 

8. Dalia : the Irish pronunciation ; cf. "tey," "tay." 



54 THE RIVALS [Act II 

Lucy. Yes, but I have : — I've got a letter for you 
in my pocket. 

Sir Luc. faith ! I guessed you weren't come 
empty-handed. — Well — let me see what the dear 
creature says. 35 

Lucy. There, Sir Lucius. [Gives him a Utter. 

Sir Luc. [i?eac7s] " Sir — there is often a sudden 
incentive impulse in love, that has a greater induction 
than years of domestic combination : such was the 
commotion 1 felt at the first superfluous view of [40 
Sir Lucius O "Trigger." — Very pretty, upon my 
word. — " As my motive is interested, you may be 
assured my love shall never be miscellaneous." Very 
well. " Female punctuation forbids me to say more; 
yet let me add, that it icill give me joy infallible [45 
to find Sir Lucius worthy the last criterion of my 
affections. — Yours, while meretricious. — Delia." 
Upon my conscience ! Lucy, your lady is a great mis- 
tress of language. — Faith, she's quite the queen of 
the dictionary ! — for the devil a word dare refuse [50 
coming at her call — tho' one would think it was quite 
out of hearing. 

Lucy. Aye, Sir, a lady of her experience 



Sir Luc. Experience ! what, at seventeen ? 54 

Lucy. O true, Sir — but then she reads so — my 

stars ! how she will read off-hand ! 

Sir Luc. Faith, she must be very deep read to 

write this way — tho' she is rather an arbitrary writer 

44. punctuation : cf. Mrs. Tryfort (A Journey to Bath, iii 5 
13, p. 313) : " Do you think Miss Tryfort doesn't understand 
punctuality better than to go into corners with young fellows ? " 

45. infallible : Mrs. Tryfort (A Journey to Bath, ii, 2, p. 299) ? 
« Oh, I '11 infallibly go." 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 55 

too — for here are a great many poor words pressed 
into the service of this note, that would get their [60 

habeas corpus from any court in Christendom. 

However, when affection guides the pen, Lucy, he 
must be a brute who finds fault with the style. 

Lucy. Ah ! Sir Lucius, if you were to hear how 
she talks of you ! 65 

Sir Luc. O tell her I'll make her the best hus- 
band in the world, and Lady O'Trigger into the bar- 
gain ! — But we must get the old gentlewoman's con- 
sent — and do everything fairly. 69 

Lucy. Nay, Sir Lucius, I thought you wa'n't rich 
enough to be so nice ! 

Sir Luc. Upon my word, young woman, you have 
hit it : — I am so poor that I can't afford to do a 
dirty action. — If I did not want money I'd steal your 
mistress and her fortune with a great deal of [75 
pleasure. — However, my pretty girl [Gives her 
money~\, here's a little something to buy you a rib- 
band ; and meet me in the evening, and I'll give you 
an answer to this. So, hussy, take a kiss before-hand 

to put you in mind. [Kisses her. [80 

Lucy. O lud ! Sir Lucius — I never seed such a 
gemman ! My lady won't like you if you're so impu- 
dent. 

Sir Luc. Faith she will, Lucy That same 

pho ! what's the name of it ? — Modesty I is a [85 

60-61. get their habeas corpus : i. e. freedom. The writ of 
Habeas Corpus is an order requiring the immediate production 
of a person in court for the purpose of inquiring into the legality 
)f his detention. 

85. what's the name of it ? " All the most laboured portraits 
oi Hibernian assurance, do not perhaps amount to so humourous 
an instance as Sir Lucius O' Trigger's forgetting the very name 



56 THE RIVALS [Act II 

quality in a lover more praised by the women than 
liked ; so, if your mistress asks you whether Sir Lucius 
ever gave you a kiss, tell her fifty — my dear. 

Lucy. What, would you have me tell her a lie ? [89 
Sir Luc. Ah, then, you baggage ! I'll make it a 

truth presently. [Kisses her. 

Lucy. For shame now ; here is some one coming. 
Sir Luc. O faith, I'll quiet your conscience! 

[Sees Fag. — Exit, humming a Tune. 
Enter Fag. 

Fag. So, so, Ma'am. I humbly beg pardon. 94 

Lucy. O lud ! — now, Mr. Fag — you flurry one so. 

Fag. Come, come, Lucy, here's no one bye — so a 
little less simplicity, with a grain or two more sincerity, 

if you please. You play false with us, Madam. — 

I saw you give the Baronet a letter. — My Master 
shall know this — and if he don't call him out — I 
will. 101 

Lucy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! you gentlemen's gentlemen are 
so hasty. — That letter was from Mrs. Malaprop, sim- 
pleton. — She is taken with Sir Lucius's address. 

Fag. What tastes some people have! — Why, [105 
I suppose I have walked by her window an hundred 
times. But what says our young lady ? Any mes- 
sage to my master? 

Lucy. Sad news, Mr. Fag ! — A worse Rival than 
Acres ! — Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed his son. 

Fag. What, Captain Absolute? Ill 

Lucy. Even so. — I overheard it all. 

Fag. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — very good, faith. — Good-bye, 
Lucy, I must away with this news. 114 

of modesty." — From a letter in The Morning Chronicle, Feb. 2, 
1775. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 57 

Lucy. Well, — you may laugh — but it is true, I 
assure you. [ Going] But — Mr. Fag — tell your 
master not to be cast down by this. 

Fag. O he'll be so disconsolate ! 

Lucy. And charge him not to think of quarrelling 
with young Absolute. 120 

Fag. Never fear ! — never fear ! 

Lucy. Be sure — bid him keep up his spirits. 

Fag. We will — we will. [Exeunt severally. 

END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. The North Parade. 
Enter Absolute. 

Abs. 'Tis just as Fag told me, indeed. — Whimsi- 
cal enough, faith ! My Father wants to foixe me to 
marry the very girl I am plotting to run away with ! 
— He must not know of my connection with her yet 
a-while. — He has too summary a method of pro- [5 
ceeding in these matters — and Lydia shall not yet 
lose her hopes of an elopement. However, I'll read 
my recantation instantly. — My conversion is some- 
thing sudden, indeed — but I can assure him it is very 
sincere. So, so — here he comes. — He looks [10 

plaguy gruff. [Steps aside. 

Enter Sir Anthony. 

Sir Anth. No — I'll die sooner than forgive him., 
- — Die^ did I say ? I'll live these fifty years to plague 
him. - — At our last meeting, his impudence had almost 
put me out of temper. — An obstinate, passionate, [15 
self-willed boy ! — - Who can he take after ? This is my 



58 THE RIVALS [Act III 

return for getting him before all his brothers and sis- 
ters ! — for putting him, at twelve years old, into a 
marching regiment, and allowing him fifty pounds 
a-year, beside his pay ever since ! — But I have [20 
done with him ; — he's any body's son for me. — I 
never will see him more, — never — never — never — • 
never ! 

A bs. Now for a penitential face. 

Sir Anth. Fellow, get out of my way. 25 

Abs. Sir, you see a penitent before you. 

Sir Anth. I see an impudent scoundrel before me. 

Abs. A sincere penitent. — I am come, Sir, to ac- 
knowledge my error, and to submit entirely to your 
will. 30 

Sir Anth. What's that? 

Abs. I have been revolving, and reflecting, and con- 
sidering on your past goodness, and kindness, and 
condescension to me. 

Sir Anth. Well, Sir ? 35 

Abs. I have been likewise weighing and balancing 
what you were pleased to mention concerning duty, 
and obedience, and authority. 

Sir Anth. Well, Puppy ? 39 

Abs. Why then, Sir, the result of my reflections 
is — a resolution to sacrifice every inclination of my 
own to your satisfaction. 

Sir Anth. Why now you talk sense — absolute 
sense — I never heard any thing more sensible in my 
life. Confound you, you shall be Jack again I 

Abs. I am happy in the appellation. 46 

Sir Anth. Why then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will 
now inform you — who the lady really is. — Nothing 
but your passion and violence, you silly fellow, pre* 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 59 

vented my telling you at first. Prepare, Jack, for [50 

wonder and rapture ! — prepare ! What think you 

of Miss Lydia Languish ? 

Abs. Languish ! What, the Languishes of Worces- 
tershire ? 

Sir Anth. Worcestershire ! No. Did you never [5£' 
meet Mrs. Malaprop and her Niece, Miss Languish, 
who came into our country just before you were last 
ordered to your regiment ? 

Abs. Malaprop ! Languish ! I don't remember ever 
to have heard the names before. Yet, stay — I [60 
think I do recollect something. Languish ! Lan- 
guish ! She squints, don't she ? — A little, red-haired 
girl? 

Sir Anth. Squints? — Ared-haired girl! — Z ds, 

no ! 65 

Abs. Then I must have forgot ; it can't be the same 
person. 

Sir Anth. Jack ! Jack ! what think you of bloom- 
ing, love-breathing seventeen ? 69 

Abs. As to that, Sir, I am quite indifferent. — If 
t can please you in the matter, 'tis all I desire. 

Sir Anth. Nay, but Jack, such eyes ! such eyes ! so 
innocently wild ! so bashfully irresolute ! Not a glance 
but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, 
Jack, her cheeks ! her cheeks, Jack ! so deeply [75 
blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes ! Then, 
Jack, her lips ! — O Jack, lips smiling at their own 
discretion ; and if not smiling, more sweetly pouting ; 
more lovely in sullenness ! 79 

Abs. [ Aside] That 's she, indeed. — Well done, old 
gentleman ! 

Sir Anth. Then, Jack, her neck ! — O Jack ! Jack ! 



60 THE RIVALS [Act III 

Abs. And which is to be mine, Sir, the Niece or 
the Aunt ? 84 

Sir Anth. Why, you unfeeling, insensible Puppy, 
1 despise you ! When I was of your age, such a de- 
scription would have made me fly like a rocket ! The 
Aunt, indeed ! — Odds life ! when I ran away with 
your mother, I would not have touched any thing old 
or ugly to gain an empire. 90 

Abs. Not to please your father, Sir? 

Sir Anth. To please my father ! Z — ds ! not 

to please O, my father ! — Oddso ! — yes — yes ! 

if my father, indeed, had desired — that's quite another 
matter. — Tho' he wa'n't the indulgent father that 
I am, Jack. 96 

Abs. I dare say not, Sir. 

Sir Anth. But, Jack, you are not sorry to find your 
mistress is so beautiful ? 99 

Abs. Sir, I repeat it ; if I please you in this affair, 
'tis all I desire. Not that I think a woman the worse 
for being handsome ; but, Sir, if you please to recol- 
lect, you before hinted something about a hump or 
two, one eye, and a few more graces of that kind. 
— Now, without being very nice, I own I should [105 
rather chuse a wife of mine to have the usual number 
of limbs, and a limited quantity of back : and tho' one 
eye may be very agreeable, yet as the prejudice has 
always run in favour of two, I would not wish to affect 
a singularity in that article. 110 

107-9. Charles Dickens seems to have been familiar with The 
Rivals. An echo of this phrase occurs in Nicholas Nickleby (ch. 
iv) : " He had but one eye, and the popular prejudice runs in 
favour of two." Cf. also iii, 3, 25 : " He is the very Pine-apple 
of politeness," with Nicholas Nickleby (ch. xxxiv) in which Mr. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 61 

Sir Anth. What a phlegmatic sot it is! Why, 
sirrah, y ou're an anchorite ! — a vile, insensible stock, 

— You a soldier ! — you're a walking block, fit only to 
dust the company's regimentals on ! — Odds life ! I've 
a great mind to marry the girl myself ! 115 

Abs. I am entirely at your disposal, Sir ; if you 
should think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, I 
suppose you would have me marry the Aunt ; or if 
you should change your mind, and take the old lady 

— 'tis the same to me — I'll marry the Niece. 120 
Sir Anth. Upon my word, Jack, thou'rt either a 

very great hypocrite, or but come, I know your 

indifference on such a subject must be all a lie — I'm 
sure it must — come, now — d — n your demure face ! 
— come, confess, Jack — you have been lying — [125 
ha'n't you ? You have been lying, hey ? I'll never 
forgive you, if you ha'n't : — so now, own, my dear 
Jack, you have been playing the hypocrite, hey? — 
I'll never forgive you if you ha'n't been lying and 
playing the hypocrite. 130 

Abs. I'm sorry, Sir, that the respect and duty which 
I bear to you should be so mistaken. 

Sir Anth. Hang your respect and duty ! But come 
along with me, I'll write a note to Mrs. Malaprop, 
and you shall visit the lady directly. 135 

Abs. Where does she lodge, Sir ? 

Mantalini refers to his wife as "my essential juice of pine* 
apple." Mrs. Nickleby's references to her husband show remi- 
niscences of Mrs. Malaprop. 

112. anchorite : recluse, hermit. 

113. block : a term applied to a stupid, unfeeling persons 
ef. " blockhead." 



62 THE RIVALS [Act III 

Sir Anth. What a dull question ! — Only on thfl 

Grove here. 

Abs. O ! then I can call on her in my way to the 

coffee-house. 

Sir Anth. In your way to the coffee-house ! You 11 
set your heart down in your way to the coffee-house 
hey? Ah' you leaden-nerv'd, wooden-hearted dolt. 
But' come along, you shall see her directly; her eyes 
shall he the Promethian torch to you — come [145 
along. I'll never forgive you if you don't come hack 
stark mad with rapture and impatience. — If you don t, 
egad, I'll marry the girl myself ! l^""'- 

Scene II. Julia's Dressing-room. 
Faulkland, solus. 

Faulk They told me Julia would return directly; 
wonder she is not yet come! -How mean does this 
captious, unsatisfied temper of mine appear to my 
cooler judgment ! Yet I know not that I indulge it in 
any other point : - but on this one subject, and to J6 
this one object, whom I think I love beyond my life, 
I am ever ungenerously fretful, and madly capricious 
_ I am conscious of it-yet I cannot correct myself ! 
What tender, honest joy sparkled in her eyes when 
we met ! — How delicate was the warmth of her [10 
expressions ! — I was ashamed to appear less happy— 
thouoh I had come resolved to wear a face of coolness 
and upbraiding. Sir Anthony's presence prevented my 
proposed expostulations ; - yet I must be satisfied that 
she has not been so very happy in my absence.— [15 
138 Grove : a fashionable square planted with trees, and 
surrounded by handsome houses, not far from the Pump Room 
and the Parades. It was named - Orange Grove » from the vis* 
of the Prince of Orange. See the map. 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 63 

She is coming ! — Yes ! — I know the nimbleness of 
her tread when she thinks her impatient Faulkland 
counts the moments of her stay. 

Enter Julia. 

Jul. I had not hop'd to see you again so soon. 19 

Faulk. Could I, Julia, be contented with my first 
welcome — restrained as we were by the presence oi 
a third person ? 

Jul. O Faulkland, when your kindness can make 
me thus happy, let me not think that I discovered 
more coolness in your first salutation than my long* 
hoarded joy could have presaged. 26 

Faulk. 'Twas but your fancy, Julia. — I ivas re- 
joiced to see you — to see you in such health. — Sure 
I had no cause for coldness ? 

Jul. Nay then, I see you have taken something ill. 
— You must not conceal from me what it is. 31 

Faulk. Well then — shall I own to you ? — but 
you will despise me, Julia — nay, I despise myself for 

it. Yet I will own, that my joy at hearing of your 

health and arrival here, by your neighbour Acres, [35 
was something damped by his dwelling much on the 
high spirits you had enjoyed in Devonshire — on your 
mirth — your singing — dancing, and I know r Dt what ! 
- — For such is my temper, Julia, that I should regard 
every mirthful moment in your absence as a trea- [40 
son to constancy. — The mutual tear that steals down 
the cheek of parting lovers is a compact that no smile 
shall live there till they meet again. 

Jul. Must I never cease to tax my Faulkland with 
this teasing minute caprice ? — Can the idle re- [45 
ports of a silly boor weigh in your breast against my 
tried affection? 



64 THE RIVALS [Act III 

Faulk. They have no weight with me, Julia : no^ 
no — I am happy if you have been so — yet only say 
that you did not sing with mirth — say that you 
thought of Faulkland in the dance. 51 

Jul. I never can be happy in your absence. — If J 
wear a countenance of content, it is to shew that my 

mind holds no doubt of my Faulkland's truth. If 

I seem'd sad — it were to make malice triumph, [55 
and say that I had fixed my heart on one who left me 
to lament his roving, and my own credulity. — Believe 
me, Faulkland, I mean not to upbraid you when I say 
that I have often dressed sorrow in smiles, lest my 
friends should guess whose unkindness had caused my 
tears. 61 

Faulk. You were ever all goodness to me. — O, I 
am a brute when I but admit a doubt of your true 
constancy! 64 

Jul. If ever, without such cause from you, as I 
will not suppose possible, you find my affections veer- 
ing but a point, may I become a proverbial scoff for 
levity and base ingratitude. 

Faulk. Ah ! Julia, that last word is grating to me. 
I would I had no title to your gratitude ! Search [70 
your heart, Julia ; perhaps what you have mistaken 
for Love, is but the warm effusion of a too thankful 
heart ! 

Jul. For what quality must I love you ? 74 

Faulk. For no quality ! To regard me for any 
quality of mind or understanding were only to esteem 
me. And for person — I have often wish'd myself de- 
formed, to be convinced that I owed no obligation 
there for any part of your affection. 79 

Jul. Where Nature has bestowed a shew of nice 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 65 

attention in the features of a man, he should laugh at 
it as misplaced. I have seen men who in this vain 
article perhaps might rank above you ; but my heart 
has never asked my eyes if it were so or not. 84 

Faulk. Now this is not well from you, Julia. — i 
despise person in a man. — Yet if you lov'd me as 
I wish, though I were an iEthiop, you'd think none 
so fair. 

Jul. I see you are determined to be unkind. — The 
contract which my poor father bound us in gives you 
more than a lover's privilege. 91 

Faulk. Again, Julia, you raise ideas that feed and 
justify my doubts. — I would not have been more 

free — no — I am proud of my restraint. — Yet — 

yet — perhaps your high respect alone for this [95 
solemn compact has fettered your inclinations, which 
else had made worthier choice. — How shall I be sure, 
had you remained unbound in thought and promise, 
that I should still have been the object of your perse- 
vering love ? 100 

Jul. Then try me now. — Let us be free as strangers 
as to what is past : — my heart will not feel more lib- 
erty ! 

Faulk. There now ! so hasty, Julia ! so anxious to 
be free ! — If your love for me were fixed and [105 
ardent, you would not loose your hold, even tho' I 
wish'd it ! 

Jul. O, you torture me to the heart ! — I cannot 
bear it. 109 

Faulk. I do not mean to distress you. — If I lov'd 
you less I should never give you an uneasy moment. 
— But hear me. — All my fretful doubts arise from 
this — Women are not used to weigh, and separate 



66 THE RIVALS [Act III 

the motives of their affections : — the cold dictates of 
prudence, gratitude, or filial duty, may some- [115 

times be mistaken for the pleadings of the heart. 

I would not boast — yet let me say that I have neither 
age, person, or character to found dislike on ; — my 
fortune such as few ladies could be charged with in- 
discretion in the match. — O Julia! when Love [120 
receives such countenance from Prudence, nice minds 
will be suspicious of its birth. 

Jid. I know not whither your insinuations would 
tend : — as they seem pressing to insult me — I will 
spare you the regret of having done so. — I have [125 
given you no cause for this ! [Exit in tears. 

Faulk. In Tears ! Stay, Julia : stay but for a mo- 
ment. The door is fastened ! — Julia ! — my soul 

— but for one moment. — I hear her sobbing ! — 
'Sdeath! what a brute am I to use her thus! [130 
Yet stay ! — Aye — she is coming now. — How little 
resolution there is in woman ! — How a few soft words 

can turn them ! No, faith ! — she is not coming 

either ! Why, Julia — my love — say but that you 

forgive me — come but to tell me that. — Now, [135 
this is being too resentful. — Stay ! she is coming too 
- — 1 thought she would — no steadiness in any thing ! 
her going away must have been a mere trick then. — - 
She sha'n't see that I was hurt by it. — I'll affect in- 

difference. — [Hums a tune: then listens] [140 

No — Z — ds ! she's not coming ! — nor don't intend it, 
I suppose. — This is not steadiness, but obstinacy ! 
Yet I deserve it. — What, after so long an absence to 
quarrel with her tenderness ! — 'twas barbarous and 
unmanly ! — I should be ashamed to see her [145 
no Wo — I'll wait till her just resentment is abated — 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 67 

and when I distress her so again, may I lose her for 
ever! and be linked instead to some antique virago, 
whose knawing passions, and long-hoarded spleen shall 
make me curse my folly half the day, and all the 
night ! [Exit. 

Scene III. Mrs. Malaprop's Lodgings. 

Mrs, Malaprop, and Captain Absolute. 

Mrs. Mai. Your being Sir Anthony's son, Captain, 
would itself he a sufficient accommodation ; — but from 
the ingenuity of your appearance, I am convinced you 
deserve the character here given of you. 4 

Abs. Permit me to say, Madam, that as I never 
yet have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Languish, my 
principal inducement in this affair at present is the 
honour of being allied to Mrs. Malaprop ; of whose 
intellectual accomplishments, elegant manners, and un- 
affected learning, no tongue is silent. 10 

Mrs. Mai. Sir, you do me infinite honour ! — I 
beg, Captain, you'll be seated. — \_Slt\ — Ah! few 
gentlemen now a days know how to value the ineffec- 
tual qualities in a woman ! — few think how a little 
knowledge becomes a gentlewoman ! Men have no 
sense now but for the worthless flower, beauty ! 16 

Abs. It is but too true, indeed, Ma'am. — Yet I 
fear our ladies should share the blame — they think our 
admiration of beauty so great, that knowledge in them 
would be superfluous. Thus, like garden-trees, they [20 
seldom shew fruits till time has robb'd them of the 
more specious blossom. — Few, like Mrs. Malaprof 
and the Orange-tree, are rich in both at once ! 

Mrs. Mai. Sir — you overpower me with good 

148. virago : a termagant ; a shrewish, turbulent woman. 



68 THE EIVALS [Act III 

breeding. — He is the very Pine-apple of polite- [25 
ness ! — You are not ignorant, Captain, that this giddy 
girl has somehow contrived to fix her affections on a 
beggarly, strolling, eaves-dropping Ensign, whom none 
of us have seen, and nobody knows any thing of. 29 

Abs. O, I have heard the silly affair before. — 
I 'm not at all prejudiced against her on that account. 

Mrs. Mai. You are very good, and very consid- 
erate, Captain. — I am sure I have done every thing 
in my power since I exploded the affair! Long ago I 
laid my positive conjunction on her never to think [35 
on the fellow again ; — I have since laid Sir Anthony's 
preposition before her ; — but, I 'm sorry to say, she 
seems resolved to decline every particle that I enjoin 
her. 39 

Abs. It must be very distressing, indeed, Ma'am. 

Mrs. Mai. It gives me the hydrostatics to such a 
degree ! — I thought she had persisted from correspond- 
ing with him ; but behold this very day I have inter- 
ceded another letter from the fellow ! I believe I have 
it in my pocket. 45 

Abs. O the devil! my last note. [Aside. 

Mrs. Mai. Aye, here it is. 

Abs. Aye, my note, indeed ! O the little traitress 
Lucy. [Aside. [49 

Mrs. Mai. There, perhaps you may know the writ- 
ing*. [Gives him the letter. 

Abs. I think I have seen the hand before. — Yes, I 
certainly must have seen this hand before : 

45. " Tradition authorizes Mrs. Malaprop first to take from 
her pocket the letter of Sir Lucius, and then discovering her 
mistake, to produce with much difficulty and in great confusion, 
the letter which Capt. Absolute recognizes at once." (Brander 
Matthews.) 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 69 

Mrs. Mai. Nay, but read it, Captain. 54 

Abs. [Heads'] " My souVs idol, my adored Lydia J " 
- — Very tender, indeed ! 

Mrs. Mai. Tender ! aye, and prophane, too, o' my 
conscience ! 

Abs. " lam excessively alarmed at the intelligence 
you send me, the more so as my new rival " 60 

Mrs. Mai. That's you, Sir. 

Abs. " has universally the character of being an 

accomplished gentleman, and a man of honour." ■ 

Well, that 's handsome enough. .. 64 

Mrs. Mai. O, the fellow had some design in writing 
so. 

Abs. That he had, I'll answer for him, Ma'am. 

Mrs. Mai. But go on, Sir — you'll see presently. 

Abs. "As for the old weather-beaten she-dragon 
who guards you " — Who can he mean by that? 70 

Mrs. Med. Me ! Sir — me ! — he means me ! 
There — what do you think now ? — But go on a little 
further. 

Abs. Impudent scoundrel ! — " it shall go hard 
but I will elude her vigilance, as I am told that the [75 
same ridiculous vanity which makes her dress up her 
coarse features, and deck her dull chat with hard 
words which she don't understand " 

Mrs. Mai. There, Sir ! an attack upon my lan- 
guage ! What do you think of that ? — an aspersion [80 
upon my parts of speech ! Was ever such a brute ! 
Sure if I reprehend any thing in this world, it is the 
use of my oracular tongue, and a nice derangement of 
epitaphs ! 84 

Abs. He deserves to be hang'd and quartered ! Let 
me see — "same ridiculous vanity " — 



70 THE RIVALS [Act III 

Mrs. Mai. You need not read it again, Sir. 

Abs. I beg pardon, Ma'am " does also lay 

her open to the grossest deceptions from flattery and 
pretended admiration " — an impudent coxcomb ! [90 

— " so that I have a scheme to see you shortly with 

the old Harridan s consent, and even to make her a 
go-between in our interviews" — Was ever such as- 
surance ! [94 

Mrs. Mai. Did you ever hear any thing like it ? — 
He'll elude my vigilance, will he ? — Yes, yes ! ha ! ha ! 
He's very likely to enter these doors ! — We'll try who 
can plot best! 

Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! A conceited puppy, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Well, but Mrs. Malaprop, as the girl seems [100 

so infatuated by this fellow, suppose you were to wink 
at her corresponding with him for a little time — let 
her even plot an elopement with him — then do you 
connive at her escape — while 7, just in the nick, will 
have the fellow laid by the heels, and fairly contrive 
to carry her off in his stead. \f 106 

Mrs. Mai. I am delighted with the scheme ; never 
was any thing better perpetrated ! 

Abs. But, pray, could not I see the lady for a few 
minutes now ? — I should like to try her temper a 
little. Ill 

Mrs. Mai. Why, I don't know — I doubt she is 
not prepared for a first visit of this kind. — There is 
a decorum in these matters. 114 

Abs. O Lord! she won't mind me — only tell hes 
Beverley 



Mrs. Mai. Sir! 



92. Harridan : a hag ; a gaunt, ill-favoured old woman. 
112. doubt : suspect. 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 7\ 

Abs. [Aside] Gently, good tongue. 

Mrs. Mai. What did you say of Beverley ? 119 

Abs. O, I was going to propose that you should tell 

her, by way of jest, that it was Beverley who was below 

—she'd come down fast enough then — ha! ha! ha! 

Mrs. Mai. 'Twould be a trick she well deserves. — = 
Resides, you know the fellow tells her he'll get my con= 
sent to see her — ha ! ha ! — Let him if he can, I [125 
say again. — Lydia, come down here ! [ Galling] — ■ 
He '11 make me a go-between in their interviews ! — ha \ 
na ! ha ! — Come down, I say, Lydia ! — I don't wonder 
at your laughing, ha ! ha ! ha ! — his impudence is 
truly ridiculous. 130 

Abs. 'Tis very ridiculous, upon my soul, Ma'am, 
ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. Mai. The little hussy won't hear. — Well, I'll 
go and tell her at once who it is. — She shall know 
that Capt. Absolute is come to wait on her. — [135 
And I'll make her behave as becomes a young woman. 

Abs. As you please, Ma'am. 

Mrs. Mai. For the present, Captain, your servant. 
— Ah ! you've not done laughing yet, I see — elude 
my vigilance/ — yes, yes, ha ! ha ! ha! [Exit. [140 

Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! one would think now I might 
throw off all disguise at once, and seize my prize with 
security — but such is Lydia's caprice that to unde- 
ceive were probably to lose her. — I'll see whether 
she knows me. 145 

[ Walks aside, and seems engaged in looking at the pictures. 
Enter Lydia. 

Lyd. What a scene am I now to go thro' ! Surely 
nothing can be more dreadful than to be obliged to 
listen to the loathsome addresses of a stranger to one's 



72 THE RIVALS [Aci III 

heart. — I have heard of girls persecuted as I am, 
who have appealed in behalf of their favoured [150 
lover to the generosity of his rival : suppose I were to 
try it — there stands the hated rival — an officer too ! 
— but O, how unlike my Beverley ! — I wonder he don't 
begin — Truly he seems a very negligent wooer ! — 
Quite at his ease, upon my word ! — I'll speak first 
[Aloud] Mr. Absolute. 156 

Abs. Madam. [Turns round. 

Lyd. O heav'ns ! Beverley ! 

Abs. Hush ! — hush, my life ! — Softly ! Be not 
•surprised ! 160 

Lyd. I am so astonished ! and so terrified ! and so 
overjoy'd ! — For Heav'n's sake ! how came you here ? 

Abs. Briefly — I have deceived your Aunt. — I 
was informed that my new rival was to visit here this 
evening, and contriving to have him kept away, have 
passed myself on her for Capt. Absolute. 166 

Lyd. O, charming ! — And she really takes you for 
young Absolute ? 

Abs. O, she's convinced of it. 

Lyd. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I can't forbear laughing to 
think how her sagacity is over-reached ! 171 

Abs. But we trifle with our precious moments — - 
such another opportunity may not occur — then let me 
now conjure my kind, my condescending angel, to fix 
the time when I may rescue her from unde- [175 
served persecution, and with a licensed warmth plead 
for my reward. 

Lyd. Will you then, Beverley, consent to forfeit 
that portion of my paltry wealth ? — that burthen on 
the wings of love? 180 

Abs. O, come to me — -rich only thus — in loveli- 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 73 

ness, — Bring no portion to me but thy love — 'twill 
be generous in you, Lydia — for well you know, it is 
the only dower your poor Beverley can repay. 184 

Lyd. How persuasive are his words ! — how charm 
ing will poverty be with him ! 

Abs. Ah ! my soul, what a life will we then live ! 
Love shall be our idol and support ! We will worship 
him with a monastic strictness ; abjuring all worldly 
toys, to centre every thought and action there. [190 
— Proud of calamity, we will enjoy the wreck of 
wealth ; while the surrounding gloom of adversity 
shall make the flame of our pure love show doubly 
bright. — By Heav'ns ! I would fling all goods of for- 
tune from me with a prodigal hand to enjoy the [195 
scene where I might clasp my Lydia to my bosom, 
and say, the world affords no smile to me — but 

here. [Embracing her~\ If she holds out now the 

devil is in it ! [Aside. 

Lyd. Now could I fly with him to the Antipodes ! 
but my persecution is not yet come to a crisis. 20/ 

Enter Mrs. Malaprop, listening. 

Mrs. Mai. I'm impatient to know how the little 
huzzy deports herself. [Aside, 

Abs. So pensive, Lydia! — is then your warmth 
abated? 203 

Mrs. Mai. Warmth abated ! — So ! — she has been 
in a passion, I suppose. [Aside 

Lyd. No — nor never can while I have life. 

Mrs. Mai. An ill-temper'd little devil ! — She'll be 
in a passion all her life — will she ? [Aside. [210 

200. to the Antipodes : to the ends of the world ; literally, 
points on the globe directly opposite each other. 



74 THE RIVALS [Act III 

Lyd. Think not the idle threats of my ridiculous 
junt can ever have any weight with me. 

Mrs. Mai. Very dutiful, upon my word ! [Aside. 

Lyd. Let her choice be Capt. Absolute, but Bev- 
erley is mine. 215 

Mrs. Mai. I am astonished at her assurance ! — to 
his face — this to his face ! [Aside. 

Abs. Thus then let me enforce my suit. [Kneeling. 

Mrs. Mai. \_Aside~\ Aye — poor young man! — 
down on his knees entreating for pity! — I can [220 
contain no longer. — [Aloud~\ Why, huzzy ! huzzy ! 
— I have overheard you. 

Abs. O confound her vigilance ! [Aside. 

Mrs. Mai. Capt. Absolute — I know not how to 
apologize for her shocking rudeness. 225 

Abs. So — all's safe, I find. [Aside. 

I have hopes, Madam, that time will bring the young 
lady 

Mrs. Mai. O there's nothing to be hoped for from 
her ! She's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks 
of Nile. 231 

Lyd. Nay, Madam, what do you charge me with 
now? 

Mrs. Mai. Why, thou unblushing rebel — didn't 
you tell this gentleman to his face that you loved [235 
another better ? — didn't you say you never would be 
his? 

Lyd. No, Madam — I did not. 

Mrs. Mai. Good Heav'ns ! what assurance ! — 
Lydia, Lydia, you ought to know that lying don't [240 
become a young woman ! — Didn't you boast that 
Beverley — that stroller Beverley, possessed your 
heart ? — Tell me that, I say. 

242. stroller : vagabond, adventurer. 



Scene IV] THE RIVALS 75 

Lyd. "lis true, Ma'am, and none but Bever- 
ley 245 

Mrs. Mai. Hold — hold, Assurance! — you shall 
not be so rude. 

Abs. Nay, pray Mrs. Malaprop, don't stop tht 
young lady's speech: — she's very welcome to talk 
thus — it does not hurt me in the least, I assure 
you. 251 

Mrs. MaL You are too good, Captain — too ami- 
ably patient — but come with me, Miss. — Let us see 
you again soon, Captain. — Remember what we have 
fixed. 255 

Abs. I shall, Ma'am. 

Mrs. Mai. Come, take a graceful leave of the 
gentleman. 

Lyd. May every blessing wait on my Beverley, my 
Wd Bev 260 

Mrs. Mai. Huzzy! I'll choak the word in your 
throat ! — come along — come along. 

[Exeunt severally, Beverley kissing his hand to Lydia — Mrs* 
Malaprop stopping her from speaking. 

Scene IV. Acres's Lodgings. 

Acres and David. 
Acres as just dressed. 

Acres. Indeed, David — do you think I become it 
so? 

Dav. You are quite another creature, believe me, 
Master, by the Mass! an' we've any luck we shall 
see the Devon monkeyrony in all the print-shops in 
Bath ! 6 

5. monkeyrony : David's way of pronouncing " macaroni,* 
% dandy. 



76 THE RIVALS [Act III 

Acres. Dress does make a difference, David. 

Dav. 'Tis all in all, I think. — Difference ! why, an v 
jou were to go now to Clod-Hall, I am certain the old 
lady wouldn't know you, Master Butler wouldn't [10 
believe his own eyes, and Mrs. Pickle would cry, 
" Lard presarve me ! " our dairy-maid would come gig- 
gling to the door, and I warrant Dolly Tester, your 
Honour's favourite, would blush like my waistcoat. - — 
Oons! I'll hold a gallon, there a'n't a dog in the [15 
house but would bark, and I question whether Phillis 
would wag a hair of her tail! 

Acres. Aye, David, there's nothing like polishing. 

Dav. So I says of your Honour's boots ; but the boy 
never heeds me ! 20 

Acres. But, David, has Mr. De-la-Grace been here ? 
I must rub up my balancing, and chasing, and boring. 

Dav. I'll call again, Sir. 

Acres. Do — and see if there are any letters for me 
at the post-office. 25 

Dav. I will. — By the Mass, I can't help looking at 

your head ! — If I hadn't been by at the cooking, I wi^i 

I may die if I should have known the dish again myself ! 

[Exit. 
Acres comes forward practising a dancing step. 

Acres. Sink, slide — - coupee ! — Confound the first 
inventors of cotillons ! say I — they are as bad as [30 

8. an' : if. 

9. Clod-Hall : In A Journey to Bath Sir Jeremy lives at Bull- 
ball. 

15. Oons : contracted from " God's wounds." 

22. balancing, chasing, boring : steps in dancing. 

29. coupee : " A dance step formerly much used ; the dancer 

rests on oue foot and passes the other forward or backward, 

making a sort of salutation." — N. E. D. 



Scene IV] THE RIVALS 77 

algebra to us country gentlemen. — I can walk a Min- 
uet easy enough when I'm forced ! — and I have been 
accounted a good stick in a Country-dance. — Odds jigs 
and tabors ! — I never valued your cross-over two couple 
— figure in — right and left — and I'd foot it [35 
with e'er a captain in the county ! — But these outland- 
ish heathen Allemandes and Cotillons are quite beyond 
me ! — I shall never prosper at 'em, that's sure. — Mine 
are true-born English legs — they don't understand 
their curst French, lingo ! — their Pas this, and [40 
Pas that, and Pas t'other ! — D — n me ! my feet don't 
like to be called Paws ! No, 'tis certain I have most 
Antigallican Toes ! 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Here is Sir Lucius O' Trigger to wait on you, 
Sir. 45 

Acres. Shew him in. 

Enter Sir Lucius. 

Sir Lac. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace you. 

Acres, My dear Sir Lucius, I kiss your hands. 

Sir Lite. Pray, my friend, what has brought you 
so suddenly to Bath? 56 

Acres. Faith ! I have followed Cupid's Jack-a- 
Lantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last. - — In 
short, I have been very ill-used, Sir Lucius. — I don't 
choose to mention names, but look on me as on a very 
ill-used gentleman. 55 

Sir Luc. Pray, what is the case ? — I ask no names. 

Acres. Mark me, Sir Lucius, I fall as deep as need 
be in love with a young lady — her friends take my part 
■ — - 1 follow her to Bath — send word of my arrival, 

37. Allemandes : a word applied to various German dances 



78 THE RIVALS [Act II] 

and receive answer that the lady is to be otherwise [60 
disposed of. — This, Sir Lucius, I call being ill-used. 

Sir Luc. Very ill, upon my conscience. — Pray, can 
you divine the cause of it ? 

Acres. Why, there's the matter : she has another 
lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is now in Bath. [6£ 
- — Odds slanders and lies ! he must be at the bottom of 
it. 

Sir Lac. A rival in the case, is there? — And you 
think he has supplanted you unfairly? 69 

Acres. Unfairly ! — to be sure he has. — He never 
could have done it fairly. 

Sir Lice. Then sure you know what is to be done ! 

Acres. Not I, upon my soul ! 

Sir Luc. We wear no swords here, but you under- 
stand me. 75 

Acres. What ! fight him ? 

Sir Luc. Aye, to be sure: what can I mean else? 

Acres. But he has given me no provocation. 

Sir Luc. Now, I think he has given you the great- 
est provocation in the world. — Can a man commit [80 
a more heinous offence against another than to fall in 
love with the same woman ? O, by my soul, it is the 
most unpardonable breach of friendship ! 

Acres. Breach of friendship ! Aye, aye ; but I have 
no acquaintance with this man. I never saw him in 
my life. 86 

Sir Luc. That's no argument at all. — He has the 
less right then to take such a liberty. 

74. We wear no swords here : The Bath regulations 
against duelling were very strict. No swords were allowed to be 
worn. Cf . v, 2, 1-2 : " A sword seen in the streets of Bath would 
raise as great an alarm as a mad-dog." 



Scene IV] THE RIVALS 79 

Acres. 'Gad, that's true. — I grow full of anger, 
Sir Lucius! — I fire apace! Odds hilts and blades ! [90 
I find a man may have a deal of valour in him and not 
Jmow it ! But couldn't I contrive to have a little right 
of my side ? 

Sir Luc. What the d — 1 signifies right when your 
honour is concerned? Do you think Achilles, or [95 
my little Alexander the Great ever inquired where the 
right lay? No, by my soul, they drew their broad- 
swords, and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the 
justice of it. 99 

Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to my 
heart ! I believe courage must be catching ! — I cer- 
tainly do feel a kind of valour rising, as it were — a 

kind of courage, as I may say. Odds flints, pans, 

and triggers ! I'll challenge him directly. 104 

Sir Luc. Ah, my little friend ! if we had Blunder- 
buss-Hall here — I could shew you a range of ances- 
try in the O'Trigger line that would furnish the new 
room, every one of whom had killed his man ! — For 
though the mansion-house and dirty acres have slipt 
through my fingers, I thank God our honour, and the 
family-pictures, are as fresh as ever. Ill 

Acres. O Sir Lucius! I have had ancestors too! 
every man of 'em colonel or captain in the militia ! 
— Odds balls and barrels ! say no more — I 'm brac'd 
for it — my nerves are become catgut ! my sinews [115 
wire ! and my heart Pinchbeck ! The thunder of your 

107. new room : the New Assembly Rooms (usually called 
the "New Rooms" or the "Upper Rooms") were opened in 
1771. See i, 1, 78, note. 

108-111. Taken almost without change from A Journey to 
Bath : see the Introduction p. xxi. 

116. Pinchbeck ; an alloy of copper and zinc resembling 



80 THE RIVALS [Act III 

words has soured the milk of human kindness in my 

breast ! Z — ds ! as the man in the play says, " ] 

could do such deeds ! " 119 

Sir Lice. Come, come, there must be no passion at 
all in the case. — These things should always be done 
civilly. 

Acres. I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius. — I must 
be in a rage. — Dear Sir Lucius, let me be in a rage, 
if you love me. — Come, here's pen and paper. [125 

[Sits down to write, 
I would the ink were red ! — Indite, I say, indite ! — 
How shall I begin ? Odcls bullets and blades ! I '11 
write a good bold hand, however. 

Sir Luc. Pray compose yourself. 130 

Acres. Come — now, shall I begin with an oath? 
Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with a damme. 

Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! do the thing decently and like 
a Christian. Begin now, — " Sir " 

Acres. That's too civil by half. 135 

Sir Luc. " To prevent the confusion that might 
arise" — 

Acres. [Writing'] Well 

Sir Luc. " From our both addressing the same 
lady "— 140 

Acres. Aye — there's the reason — [Writing] 
" same lady " — Well 

Sir Luc. " / shall expect the honour of your 
company " 144 

Acres. Z ds ! I'm not asking him to dinner. 

Sir Luc. Pray be easy. 

gold, hence used in cheap jewelry. Named after its inventor, 
Christopher Pinchbeck, a London watch-maker. 

117. the milk of human kindness : Macbeth i, 5, 15. 



Scene IV] THE RIVALS 81 

Acres. Well then [ Writing'] - — " honour of yom 
company" — 

Sir Luc. u To settle our pretensions " — 

Acres. [Writing'] Well. — 150 

'Sir Luc. Let me see — aye, King's Mead-fields 
will do — " In King's Mead-fields" 

Acres. So that's done. — Well, I'll fold it up pre- 
sently ; my own crest — a hand and dagger shall be the 
seal. 155 

Sir Luc. You see now, this little explanation will 
put a stop at once to all confusion or misunderstanding 
that might arise between you. 

Acres. Aye, we fight to prevent any misunderstand- 
ing. 160 

Sir Luc. Now, I'll leave you to fix your own time. 
— Take my advice, and you'll decide it this evening 
if you can ; then let the worst come of it, 'twill be off 
your mind to-morrow. 

Acres. Very true. 165 

Sir Luc. So I shall see nothing more of you, unless 
it be by letter, till the evening. — I would do myself 
the honour to carry your message ; but, to tell you a 
secret, I believe I shall have just such another affair 
on my own hands. There is a gay captain here, [170 
who put a jest on me lately at the expence of my coun- 
try, and I only want to fall in with the gentleman to 
call him out. 

Acres. By my valour, I should like to see you fight 
first ! Odds life ! I should like to see you kill him, if it 
was only to get a little lesson. 176 

Sir Luc. I shall be very proud of instructing you. 

151. King's Mead-fields : an extensive meadow to the west 
of the city. See the map. 



82 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

— Well for the present — but remember now, when 
you meet your antagonist, do every thing in a mild and 
agreeable manner. — Let your courage be as keen, but 
at the same time as polished, as your sword. 

[Exeunt severally. 



END OF THE THIRD ACT. 



ACT IV. 



Scene I. Acres's Lodgings. 
Acres and David. 

David. Then, by the Mass, Sir ! I would do no such 
thing — ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the kingdom 
should make me fight, when I wa'n't so minded. Oons ! 
what will the old lady say when she hears o't ! 4 

Acres. Ah ! David, if you had heard Sir Lucius ! — 
Odds sparks and flames ! he would have rous'd your 
valour. 

David. Not he, indeed. I hates such bloodthirsty 
cormorants. Look'ee, Master, if you'd wanted a bout 
at boxing, quarter-staff, or short-staff, I should [10 
never be the man to bid you cry off : but for your curst 
sharps and snaps, I never knew any good come of 'em. 

Acres. But my honour, David, my honour ! I must 
be very careful of my honour. 14 

David. Aye, by the Mass ! and I would be very 
careful of it ; and I think in return my honour couldn't 
do less than to be very careful of me. 

Acres. Odds blades ! David, no gentleman will ever 
risk the loss of his honour ! 19 

David. I say then, it would be but civil in honour 

12. sharps : keen-pointed duelling swords. — snaps: pistols. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 33 

never to risk the loss of the gentleman. — Lookee, 
Master, this honour seems to me to be a marvellous 
false friend ; aye, truly, a very courtier-like servant. — 
Put the case, I was a gentleman (which, thank God, no 
one can say of me) ; well — my honour makes me [25 
quarrel with another gentleman of my acquaintance. — 
So — we fight. (Pleasant enough that.) Boh! — I kill 
him — (the more's my luck). Now, pray who gets the 
profit of it ? — Why, my honour. — But put the case 
that he kills me ! — by the Mass ! I go to the worms, 
and my honour whips over to my enemy ! 31 

Acres. No, David — in that case ! — Odds crowns 
and laurels ! your honour follows you to the grave. 

David. Now, that 's just the place where I could 
make a shift to do without it. 35 

Acres. Z ds, David, you're a coward ! — It 

doesn't become my valour to listen to you. — What, 
shall I disgrace my ancestors ? — Think of that, David 
— think what it would be to disgrace my ancestors ! 

David. Under favour, the surest way of not dis- [40 
gracing them is to keep as long as you can out of their 
company. Look'ee now, Master, to go to them in such 
haste — with an ounce of lead in your brains — I should 
think might as well be let alone. Our ancestors are very 
good kind of folks ; but they are the last people I should 
choose to have a visiting acquaintance with. 46 

Acres. But David, now, you don't think there is such 
very, very, very great danger, hey ? — Odds life ! peo- 
ple often fight without any mischief done ! 49 

David. By the Mass, I think 'tis ten to one against 
you ! — Oons ! here to meet some lion -headed fellow, I 

22. this honour, etc. : Sheridan has in mind Falstaff's famous 
"catechism on honour," I Henry IV, v, 1. 



84 THE RIVALS [Act 1 v 

warrant, with his d — n'd double-barrell'd swords, and 
cut-and-thrust pistols ! Lord bless us ! it makes me 
tremble to think o't. — Those be such desperate bloody- 
minded weapons ! Well, I never could abide 'em ! [55 
— - from a child I never could fancy 'em ! — I suppose 
there a'n't so merciless a beast in the world as your 
loaded pistol ! 

Acres. Z — ds! I won't be afraid! — Odds fire and 
fury ! you shan't make me afraid ! — Here is the [60 
challenge, and I have sent for my dear friend Jack 
Absolute to carry it for me. 

David. Aye, i' the name of mischief, let him be the 
messenger. — For jLay part, I wouldn't lend a. hand to it 
for the best horse in your stable. By the Mass ! it [65 
don't look like another letter ! It is, as I may say, a 
designing and malicious-looking letter ! — and I war- 
rant smells of gunpowder, like a soldier's pouch ! — 
Oons ! I wouldn't swear it mayn't go off ! 69 

Acres. Out, you poltroon! — you ha'n't the valour • 
of a grasshopper. 

David. Well, I say no more. — 'Twill be sad news, 
to be sure, at Clod-Hall! — but I ha' done. — How 
Phillis will howl when she hears of it ! — Aye, poor 
bitch, she little thinks what shooting her Master's [75 
going after ! — And I warrant old Crop, who has car- 
ried your honour, field and road, these ten years, will 
curse the hour he was born. [Whimpering. 

Acres. It won't do, David — I am determined to 
fight — so get along, you Coward, while I'm in the 
mind. 81 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Captain Absolute, Sir 

Acres. O ! shew him up. [Exit Servant 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 85 

David. Well, Heaven send we be all alive this time 
to-morrow. 85 

Acres. What's that ! — Don't provoke me, David ! 
David, Good bye, Master. [Whimpering, 

Acres. Get along, you cowardly, dastardly, croaking 

raven. [Exit David 

Enter Absolute. 

Abs. What's the matter, Bob? 90 

Acres. A vile, sheep-hearted blockhead ! — If 1 

hadn't the valour of St. George and the dragon to 

boot 

Abs. But what did you want with me, Bob ? 

Acres. O ! There [Gives him the challenge. [95 

Abs. "To ^Ensign Beverley." So — what's going on 
now ? [-4siJe] — Well, what's this ? 

Acres. A challenge ! 

Abs. Indeed ! — Why, you won't fight him, will 
you, Bob ? 100 

Acres. 'Egad, but I will, Jack. — Sir Lucius has 
wrought me to it. He has left rne full of rage — and 
I'll fight this evening, that so much good passion 
mayn't be wasted. 

Abs. But what have I to do with this ? 105 

Acres. Why, as I think you know something of this 
fellow, I want you to find him out for me, and give him 
this mortal defiance. 

Abs. Well, give it to me, and trust me he gets it. 

Acres. Thank you, my dear friend, my dear Jack ; 
but it is giving you a great deal of trouble. Ill 

Abs. Not in the least — I beg you won't mention it« 
— No trouble in the world, I assure you. 

Acres. You are very kind. — What it is to have a 
friend ! — You couldn't be my second — could you, 
Jack? 116 



86 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

Abs. Why no, Bob — not in this affair — it would 
not be quite so proper. 

Acres. Well then, I must fix on my friend Sir 
Lucius. I shall have your good wishes, however, Jack. 

Abs. Whenever he meets you, believe me. 121 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Sir Anthony Absolute is below, inquiring fon 
the Captain. 

Abs. I'll come instantly. — Well, my little hero, 
success attend you. [Going. [125 

Acres. Stay — stay, Jack. — If Beverley should ask 
you what kind of a man your friend Acres is, do tell 
him I am a devil of a fellow -^- will you, Jack ? 

Abs. To be sure I shall. — I'll say you are a deter- 
mined dog — hey, Bob ? 130 

Acres. Aye, do, do — and if that frightens him, 
'egad, perhaps he mayn't come. So tell him I gener- 
ally kill a man a week — will you, Jack ? 

Abs. I will, I will ; I'll say you are call'd in the 
country " Fighting Bob ! " 135 

Acres. Right, right — 'tis all to prevent mischief ; 
for I don't want to take his life if I clear my honour. 

Abs. No ! — that's very kind of you. 

Acres. Why, you don't wish me to kill him — -do 
you, Jack ? 140 

Abs. No, upon my soul, I do not. — But a devil of 
a fellow, hey ? [Going* 

Acres. True, true. — But stay — stay, Jack — you 
may add that you never saw me in such a rage before 
* — ■ a most devouring rage ! 145 

Abs. I will, I will. 

Acres. Remember, Jack — a determined dog ! 

Abs. Aye, aye, "Fighting Bob ! " [Exeunt severally. 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 87 

Scene II. Mrs. Malaprop's Lodgings. 

Mrs. Malaprop and Lydia. 

Mrs. Mai. Why, thou perverse one ! — tell me 
what you can object to him ? — Isn't he a handsome 
man? — tell me that. — A genteel man? a pretty 
figure of a man ? 4 

Lyd. She little thinks whom she is praising ! 
[-4sic?e] — So is Beverley, Ma'am. 

Mrs. Mai. No caparisons, Miss, if you please ! — 
Caparisons don't become a young woman. — No ! 
Captain Absolute is indeed a fine gentleman ! 

Lyd. Aye, the Captain Absolute you have seen. [10 

[Aside. 

Mrs. Mai. Then he's so well bred ; — so full of 
alacrity, and adulation ! — and has so much to say for 
himself : — in such good language, too ! — His physi- 
ognomy so grammatical ! — Then his presence is so 
noble ! — I protest, when I saw him, I thought of [15 
what Hamlet says in the play : — " Hesperian curls ! 
— the front of Job himself ! — An eye, like March, 
to threaten at command ! — A Station, like Harry 
Mercury, new — " something about kissing — on a 
hill — however, the similitude struck me directly. [20 

Lyd. How enraged she'll be presently when she 
discovers her mistake ! [Aside. 

Enter Servant. 

Sew. Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute are be- 
low, Ma'am. . 2^ 

16. Hamlet says, etc. : Hamlet iii, 4, 56-59 : 

Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, 
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ; 
A station like the herald Mercury 
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill. 



88 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

Mrs. Mai. Shew them up here. [Exit Serv. 

Now, Lydia, I insist on your behaving as becomes a 
young woman. — Shew your good breeding at least, 
though you have forgot your duty. 

Lyd. Madam, I have told you my resolution; — I 
shall not only give him no encouragement, but I [30 
won't even speak to, or look at him. 

[Flings herself into a chair, with her face from the door. 
Enter Sir Anthony and Absolute. 

Sir Anth. Here we are, Mrs. Malaprop, come to 
mitigate the frowns of unrelenting beauty — and diffi- 
culty enough I had to bring this fellow. — I don't 
know what 's the matter ; but if I hadn't held him by 
force, he 'd have given me the slip. 36 

Mrs. Mai. You have infinite trouble, Sir Anthony, 
in the affair. I am ashamed for the cause ! — Lydia, 
Lydia, rise, I beseech you ! — pay your respects ! 

[Aside to her, 
Sir Anth. I hope, madam, that Miss Lan- [40 
guish has reflected on the worth of this gentleman, 
and the regard due to her Aunt's choice, and my alli- 
ance. — Now, Jack, speak to her ! [Aside to him. 
Abs. What the d— 1 shall I do! [Aside] — You 
see, Sir, she won't even look at me whilst you are [45 
here. — I knew she wouldn't ! — I told you so. — Let 
me entreat you, Sir, to leave us together ! 

[Absolute seems to expostulate with his Father. 

Lyd. \_A&ide\ I wonder I ha'n't heard my Aunt 
exclaim yet! Sure she can't have look'd at him! — 
Perhaps their regimentals are alike, and she is some- 
thing blind. 51 

Sir Anth. I say, Sir, I won't stir a foot yet ! 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 89 

Mrs. Mai, I am sorry to say, Sir Anthony, that 
my affluence over my Niece is very small. — Turn 
round, Lydia, I blush for you ! [Aside to her. 55 

Sir Anth. May I not flatter myself that Miss Lan- 
guish will assign what cause of dislike she can have 
to my son ! — Why don't you begin, Jack ? — Speak, 
you puppy — speak ! [Aside to him. [59 

Mrs. Mai. It is impossible, Sir Anthony, she can 
have any. — She will not say she has. — Answer, 
hussy ! why don't you answer ? [Aside to her 

Sir Anth. Then, Madam, I trust that a childish 
and hasty predilection will be no bar to Jack's happi- 
ness. — Z — ds ! sirrah ! why don't you speak ? [65 

[Aside to him. 

Lyd. [Aside] I think my lover seems as little in* 
clined to conversation as myself. — How strangely 
blind my Aunt is ! 

Abs. Hem ! hem ! — Madam — hem ! — [Absolute 
attempts to speak, then returns to Sir Antho- [70 
ny] — Faith ! Sir, I am so confounded ! — and so — so 
— confused ! — I told you I should be so, Sir, — I 
knew it. — The — the — tremor of my passion entirely 
takes away my presence of mind. 74 

Sir Anth. But it don't take away your voice, fooL> 
does it ? — Go up, and speak to her directly ! 

[Abs. makes signs to Mrs. Mai. to leave them together. 

Mrs. Mai. Sir Anthony, shall we leave them to- 
gether ? — Ah ! you stubborn little vixen ! [Aside to her. 

Sir Anth.* Not yet, Ma'am, not yet ! What the d — 1 
are you at ? Unlock your jaws, sirrah, or [80 

[Aside to him. 
Absolute draws near Lydia. 

Abs. \_Aside~] Now Heav'n send she may be tod 



90 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

sullen to look round ! — I must disguise my voice. — 

[Speaks in a low hoarse tone 

. Will not Miss Languish lend an ear to the mild 

accents of true love? — Will not 84 

Sir Anth. What the d— 1 ails the fellow?— Why 
don't you speak out? — not stand croaking like a 
frog in a quinsey ! 

Abs. The — the — excess of my awe, and my — - 
my — my modesty quite choak me ! 89 

Sir Anth. Ah! your modesty again! — I'll tell 
you what, Jack, if you don't speak out directly, and 
glibly, too, I shall be in such a rage ! — Mrs. Mala- 
prop, I wish the lady would favour us with something 
more than a side-front ! 

[Mrs. Malaprop seems to chide Lydia. 

Abs. [ Aside] So ! — all will out I see ! 95 

[Goes up to Lydia, speaks softly. 
Be not surprised, my Lydia; suppress all surprise at 
present. 

Lyd. [Aside] Heav'ns! 'tis Beverley's voice! — 
Sure he can't have impos'd on Sir Anthony, too! — 

[Looks round by degrees, then starts up. 

Is this possible ! — my Beverley ! — how can this be ? 
. — my Beverley? 101 

Abs. Ah! 'tis all over. [Aside. 

Sir Anth. Beverley ! — the devil ! — Beverley ! — { 
What can the girl mean? — This is my son, Jack 
Absolute! 105 

Mrs. Mai. For shame, hussy ! for uhame ! — your 
head runs so on that fellow that you have him always 
in your eyes ! — Beg Captain Absolute's pardon di- 
rectly. 109 

87. quinsey : an inflammation of the throat* 



Sc*iVeII] THE RIVALS 91 

Lyd. I see no Captain Absolute, but my lov'd 
Beverley ! 

Sir Anth. Z — ds ! the girl's mad!— her brain's 
turn'd by reading ! 

Mrs. Mai. O' my conscience, I believe so ! — What 
do you mean by Beverley, hussy? — You saw [115 
Captain Absolute before to-day; there he is — -your 
husband that shall be. 

Lyd. With all my soul, Ma'am. — When I refuse 
my Beverley 119 

Sir Anth. O! she's as mad as Bedlam! — Or 
has this fellow been playing us a rogue's trick ! — - 
Come here, sirrah ! — who the d — 1 are you? 

Abs. Faith, Sir, I am not quite clear myself ; but 
I'll endeavour to recollect. 124 

Sir Anth. Are you my son, or not? — answer for 
your mother, you dog, if you won't for me. 

Mrs. Med. Aye, Sir, who are you ? O mercy ! I 
begin to suspect ! 

Abs. Ye Powers of Impudence befriend me! 
[Aside] Sir Anthony, most assuredly I am your [130 
wife's son ; and that I sincerely believe myself to be 
yours also, I hope my duty has always shewn. — Mrs. 
Malaprop, I am your most respectful admirer — and 
shall be proud to add affectionate nephew. — I need 
not tell my Lydia, that she sees her faithful Bev- [135 
erley, who, knowing the singular generosity of her 
temper, assum'd that name, and a station which has 
proved a test of the most disinterested love, which he 
now hopes to enjoy in a more elevated character. [139 

120. Bedlam : the common name for the famous madhouse 
in London, the Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlehem (corrupted 
into Bedlam) 



92 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

Lyd. [Sullenly"] So ! — there will be no elopement 
after all! 

Sir Anth. Upon my soul, Jack, thou art a very 
impudent fellow ! To do you justice, I think I neve* 
saw a piece of more consummate assurance ! 144 

Abs. O you flatter me, Sir — you compliment- — 
'tis my modesty you know, Sir — my modesty that has 
stood in my way. 

Sir Anth. Well, I am glad you are not the dull, 
insensible varlet you pretended to be, however ! — I 'm 
glad you have made a fool of your father, you [150 

dog — I am. So this was your penitence, your duty, 

and obedience ! — I thought it was d — n'd sudden ! 
— You never heard their names before, not you ! — 
What, Languishes of Worcestershire, hey ? — if you 
could please me in the affair, Hwas all you de- [155 
sired ! — Ah ! you dissembling villain ! — What ! — 
[Pointing to Lydia] she squints, dont she? — a 
little red-hair* d girl ! — hey ? — Why, you hypocriti- 
cal young rascal ! — I wonder you a'n't ashamed to 
hold up your head ! 160 

Abs. 'Tis with difficulty, Sir. — I am conf us'd — - 
very much conf us'd, as you must perceive. 

Mrs, Mai. O Lud ! Sir Anthony ! — a new light 
breaks in upon me! — Hey ! how ! what ! Captain, did 
you write the letters then ? — What ! — I am to [165' 
thank you for the elegant compilation of " an old 
weather -beaten she-dragon " — hey ? — O mercy ! — 
was it you that reflected on my parts of speech ? 

Abs. Dear Sir ! my modesty will be overpower'd 
at last, if you don't assist me. — I shall certainly not 
be able to stand it ! 171 

Sir Anth. Come, come, Mrs. Malaprop, we must 



ricENE H] THE RIVALS 93 

forget and forgive. — Odds life ! matters have taken 
so clever a turn all of a sudden, that I could find in 
my heart to be so good-humour'd ! and so gallant ! — 
hey ! Mrs. Malaprop ! 176 

Mrs. Mai. Well, Sir Anthony, since you desire it, 
we will not anticipate the past ; — so mind, young 
people — our retrospection will now be all to the 
future. 180 

Sir Anth. Come, we must leave them together ; 
Mrs. Malaprop, they long to fly into each other's 
arms, I warrant! [^.siefe] — Jack — isn't the cheek 
as I said, hey? — and the eye, you dog! — and 
the lip — hey? — Come, Mrs. Malaprop, we'll [185 
not disturb their tenderness — theirs is the time of 

life for happiness ! " Youth's the season made for 

joy " — [ Si?igs~] — hey ! — Odds life ! I'm in such 
spirits, — I don't know what I couldn't do ! — Permit 
me, Ma'am — [Gives his hand to Mrs. Mai. [190 
Sings] Tol-de-rol ! — 'gad, I should like a little fool- 
ing myself — Tol-de-rol ! de-rol ! 

[Exit singing, and handing Mrs. Mai. Lydia sits sullenly in her chair. 

Abs. So much thought bodes me no good [Aside']. 
— So grave, Lydia! 

Lyd. Sir ! 195 
Abs. So ! — egad ! I thought as much ! — That 
d — n'd monosyllable has froze me ! [Aside] — What, 
Lydia, now that we are as happy in our friends' con- 
sent, as in our mutual vows 

Lyd. Friends' consent, indeed! [Peevishly. [200 

Abs. Come, come, we must lay aside some of our 

romance — a little wealth and comfort may be en- 

187. Youth's the season made for joy : A song from 
Ray's The Beggar's Opera. 



94 THE RIVALS [Act I\ 

dur'd after all. And for your fortune, the lawyers 
shall make such settlements as 

Lyd. Lawyers ! — I hate lawyers ! 205 

Abs. Nay then, we will not wait for their lingering 
forms, but instantly procure the licence, and 

Lyd, The licence ! — I hate licence ! 

Abs. Oh my Love ! be not so unkind ! —Thus let 
me intreat [Kneeling. [210 

Lyd. Pshaw ! — what signifies kneeling when you 
know I must have you ? 

Abs. [Rising] Nay, Madam, there shall be no con- 
straint upon your inclinations, I promise you. — If I 
have lost your heart, — I resign the rest. — 'Gad, [215 
I must try what a little spirit will do. [Aside. 

Lyd. [Rising'] Then, Sir, let me tell you, the in- 
terest you had there was acquired by a mean, un- 
manly imposition, and deserves the punishment of 
fraud. — What, you have been treating me like [220 
a child! — humouring my romance! and laughing, I 
suppose, at your success ! 

Abs. You wrong me, Lydia, you wrong me. — Only 
hear 224 

Lyd. So, while /fondly imagined we were deceiv- 
ing my relations, and fiatter'd myself that I should 
outwit and incense them all — behold ! my hopes are 
to be crush'd at once, by my Aunt's consent and ap= 
probation ! — and / am myself the only dupe at last ! 

[ Walking about in heat. 

Abs. Nay, but hear me 230 

Lyd. No, Sir, you could not think that such paltry 
artifices could please me, when the mask was thrown 
off ! — But I suppose since your tricks have made 
you secure of my fortune, you are little solicitous 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 95 

about my affections. — But here, Sir, here is the [235 
picture — Beverley's picture! [Taking a miniature 
front her hosom] which I have worn, night and day 
in spite of threats and entreaties ! — There, Sir. 
[Flings it to hint] — and be assured I throw the 
original from my heart as easily ! [240 

Abs. Nay, nay, Ma'am, we will not differ as to 
that. — Here [Taking out a picture], here is Miss 
Lydia Languish. — What a difference ! — Aye, there 
is the heav'nly assenting smile that first gave soul 
and spirit to my hopes! — those are the lips [245 
which seal'd a vow, as yet scarce dry in Cupid's cal- 
endar ! — and there, the half resentful blush that 
would have check' d the ardour of my thanks. — 
Well, all that's past! — all over indeed! — There, 
Madam — in beauty, that copy is not equal to [250 
you, but in my mind it's merit over the original, in 
being still the same, is such — that — I cannot find in 
my heart to part with it. [Puts it up again. 

Lyd. [Softening'] "lis your own doing, Sir. — I — 
I — I suppose you are perfectly satisfied. 255 

Abs. O, most certainly. — Sure now this is much 
better than being in love ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! — There's 
some spirit in this ! — What signifies breaking some 
scores of solemn promises, half an hundred vows, 
under one's hand, with the marks of a dozen or [260 
two angels to witness! — all that's of no consequence, 
you know. — To be sure people will say, that Miss 
didn't know her own mind — but never mind that: — 
or perhaps they may be ill-natured enough to hint 
that the gentleman grew tired of the lady and forsook 
her — but don't let that fret you. 266 

252. still : always. 



96 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

Lyd. There's no bearing his insolence. 

[Bursts into tears, 
Enter Mrs. Malaprop and Sir Anthony. 

Mrs. Mai. [Entering] Come, we must interrupt 
your billing and cooing a while. 269 

Lyd. This is worse than your treachery and deceit? 
you base ingrate ! [Sobbing, 

Sir Antli. What the devil's the matter now! — » 
Z — ds ! Mrs. Malaprop, this is the oddest billing 
and cooing I ever heard! — But what the deuce is 
the meaning of it ? — I 'm quite astonished ! 275 

A bs. Ask the lady, Sir. 

Mrs. Mai. O mercy! — I'm quite analys'd, for my 
part ! — Why, Lydia, what is the reason of this ? 

Lyd. Ask the gentleman, Ma'am. 279 

Sir Anih. Z — ds ! I shall be in a phrenzy ! — Why 
Jack, you scoundrel, you are not come out to be any 
one else, are you ? 

Mrs. Mai. Aye, Sir, there's no more trick, is 
there ? — You are not like Cerberus, three Gentlemen 
at once, are you? 285 

Abs. You'll not let me speak. — I say the lady 
can account for this much better than I can 

Lyd. Ma'am, you once commanded me never to 
think of Beverley again — there is the man — I now 
obey you: — for, from this moment, I renounce him 
for ever. [Exit Lydia. [29] 

Mrs. Mai. O mercy ! and miracles ! what a turn 
here is ! — Why sure, Captain, you haven't behaved 
lisrespectfully to my Niece ? 294 

Sir Anih. Ha! ha! ha! — ha! ha! ha! — now T 
see it — ha ! ha ! ha ! — now I see it — you have been 
too lively, Jack. 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 9T 

Abs. Nay, sir, upon my word 

Sir Anth. Come, no lying, Jack — I'm sure Hwas 
so. 300 

Mrs. Mai. O Lud ! Sir Anthony ! — O fie, Cap- 
tain! 

Abs. Upon my soul, Ma'am 

Sir Anth. Come, no excuses, Jack ; — why, your 
father, you rogue, was so before you : — the [305 
blood of the Absolutes was always impatient. — Ha ! 
ha! ha! poor little Lydia! — Why, you've frighten'd 
her, you Dog, you have. 

Abs. By all that's good, Sir 309 

Sir Anth. Z — ds ! say no more, I tell you. — Mrs. 
Malaprop shall make your peace. — You must make 
his peace, Mrs. Malaprop ; — you must tell her 'tis 
Jack's way — tell her 'tis all our ways — it runs in the 
blood of our family ! — Come, get on, Jack — ha ! ha ! 
ha! Mrs. Malaprop — a young villain! 315 

[Pushing him out. 

Mrs. Mai. O ! Sir Anthony ! — O fie, Captain ! 

[Exeunt severally. 

Scene III. The North-Parade. 

Enter Sir Lucius O'Trigg-er. 
Sir Luc. I wonder where this Capt. Absolute hides 
himself. — Upon my conscience ! — these officers are 
always in one's way in love-affairs. — I remember I 
might have married Lady Dorothy Carmine, if it had 
not been for a little rogue of a Major, who ran [5 
aw r ay with her before she could get a sight of me ! — 
And I wonder too what it is the ladies can see in them 
to be so fond of them — unless it be a touch of the old 
serpent in 'em, that makes the little creatures be caught, 



98 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

like vipers, with a bit of red cloth. — Hah ! — isn't [10 

this the Captain coming ? — faith it is ! — There is a 

probability of succeeding about that fellow that is 

mighty provoking ! — Who the devil is he talking to ? 

[Steps aside. 
Enter Capt. Absolute. 

Abs. To what fine purpose I have been plotting ! A 
noble reward for all my schemes, upon my soul ! — [15 
A little gypsey ! — I did not think her romance could 
have made her so d — n'd absurd either. — S'death, I 
never was in a worse humour in my life ! — I could cut 
my own throat, or any other person's, with the greatest 
pleasure in the world ! 20 

Sir Luc. O, faith ! I'm in the luck of it — I never 
could have found him in a sweeter temper for my pur- 
pose — to be sure I'm just come in the nick! Now to 
enter into conversation with him, and so quarrel gen- 
teelly. [Sir Lucius goes up to Absolute] With [25 

regard to that matter, Captain, I must beg leave to 
differ in opinion with you. 

Abs. Upon my word then, you must be a very subtle 
disputant : — because, Sir, I happen'd just then to be 
giving no opinion at all. 30 

Sir Luc. That's no reason. — For give me leave to 
tell you, a man may think an untruth as well as speak 
one. 

Abs. Very true, Sir, but if a man never utters his 
thoughts I should think they might stand a chance of 
escaping controversy. 36 

Sir Luc. Then, Sir, you differ in opinion with me, 
which amounts to the same thing. 

10. vipers . . . red cloth : many animals are affected by the 
solor red: of. the phrase " like a red rag before a bull." 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 99 

Abs. Hark'ee, Sir Lucius, — if I had not before 
known you to be a gentleman, upon my soul, I [40 
should not have discovered it at this interview: — for 
what you can drive at, unless you mean to quarrel with 
me, I cannot conceive ! 

Sir Luc. I humbly thank you, Sir, for the quick- 
ness of your apprehension. — \Bowing~\ — You [45 
have nam'd the very thing I would be at. 

Abs. Very well, Sir — I shall certainly not baulk 
your inclinations — but I should be glad you would 
please to explain your motives. 49 

Sir Luc. Pray, Sir, be easy — the quarrel is a very 
pretty quarrel as it stands — we should only spoil it 
by trying to explain it. — However, your memory is 
very short — or you could not have forgot an affront 
you pass'd on me within this week. — So no more, but 
name your time and place. 55 

Abs. Well, Sir, since you are so bent on it, the 
sooner the better ; — let it be this evening — here, by 
the Spring-Gardens. — We shall scarcely be inter- 
rupted. 59 

Sir Luc. Faith ! that same interruption in affairs 
of this nature shews very great ill-breeding. — I 
don't know what's the reason, but in England, if a 
thing of this kind gets wind, people make such a pother 
that a gentleman can never fight in peace and quiet- 
ness. — However, if it's the same to you, Captain, [65 
I should take it as a particular kindness if you'd let us 
meet in King's Mead-Fields, as a little business will 
call me there about six o'clock, and I may dispatch 
both matters at once. 69 

58. Spring-Gardens: an enclosed pleasure ground just across 
the river to the east of the city. It was surrounded by fields weli 
suited for duels. See the map. 



.100 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

Abs. 'Tis the same to me exactly. — A little 
after six, then, we will discuss this matter more seri- 
ously. 

Sir Luc. If you please, Sir, there will be very pretty 
small-sword light, tho' it won't do for a long shot. So 
that matter's settled ! and my mind's at ease ! 75 

[Exit Sir Lucius, 
Enter Faulkland, meeting Absolute. 

Abs. Well met. — I was going to look for you. — 
O, Faulkland ! all the Daemons of spite and disappoint- 
ment have conspired against me ! I'm so vex'd that if 
I had not the prospect of a resource in being knock'd 
o' the head by and by, I should scarce have spirits to 
tell you the cause. 81 

Faulk. What can you mean ? — Has Lydia chang'd 
her mind ? — I should have thought her duty and in- 
clination would now have pointed to the same object. 

Abs. Aye, just as the eyes do of a person who [85 
squints : — when her love-eye was fix'd on me — t'other 
— her eye of duty, was finely obliqued : — but when 
duty bid her point that the same way — off t'other 
turn'd on a swivel, and secured its retreat with a 
frown ! 90 

Faulk. But what's the resource you 

Abs. O, to wind up the whole, a good-natured Irish- 
man here has — [Mimicking Sir Lucius] — beg'd leave 
to have the pleasure of cutting my throat — and I mean 
to indulge him — that's all. 95 

Faulk. Prithee, be serious. 

Abs. 'Tis fact, upon my soul. — Sir Lucius O'Trig- 
ger — you know him by sight — for some affront, which 
I am sure I never intended, has obliged me to meet 



Scene: III] THE RIVALS 101 

him this evening at six o'clock. — 'Tis on that [100 
account I wish'd to see you — you must go with me. 

Faulk. Nay, there must be some mistake, sure. — 
Sir Lucius shall explain himself — and I dare say mat- 
ters may be accommodated. — But this evening, did 
you say ? — I wish it had been any other time. [105 

Abs. Why ? — there will be light enough : — there 
will (as Sir Lucius says) " be very pretty small-sword 
light, tho' it won't do for a long shot." — Confound 
his long shots I 109 

Faulk. But I am myself a good deal ruffled by a 
difference I have had with Julia — my vile tormenting 
temper has made me treat her so cruelly that I shall 
not be myself till we are reconciled. 

Abs. By Heav'ns, Faulkland, you don't deserve her. 

Enter Servant, gives Faulkland a letter. 

Faulk. O Jack ! this is from Julia. — I dread [115 
to open it. — I fear it may be to take a last leave — 
perhaps to bid me return her letters — and restore 
O ! how I suffer for my folly ! 

Abs. Here — letmesee. [Takes the letter and opens 
it] Aye, a final sentence indeed ! — 'tis all over with 
you, faith ! 121 

Faulk. Nay, Jack — don't keep me in suspense. 

Abs. Hear then. — "As I am convinced that my 
dear Faulkland's own reflections have already up- 
braided him for his last unkindness to me, I [125 
will not add a word on the subject. — I wish to speak 
with you as soon as possible. — Your's ever and truly, 
Julia." — There's stubbornness and resentment for 
you ! [ Gives him the letter] Why, man, you don't 
seem one whit happier at this. 13^ 

Faulk. O, yes, I am — but — - but - 



102 THE RIVALS [Act IV 

Abs. Confound your bicts. — You never hear any 
thing that would make another man bless himself, but 
you immediately d — n it with a but. 134 

Faulk. Now, Jack, as you are my friend, own hon- 
estly — don't you think there is something forward 

— something indelicate in this haste to forgive? — 
Women should never sue for reconciliation : — that 
should always come from us. — They should retain 
their coldness till wood to kindness — and their [140 
pardon, like their love, should " not unsought be 
won." 

Abs. I have not patience to listen to you : — thou'rt 
incorrigible ! — so say no more on the subject. — I must 
go to settle a few matters. — Let me see you [145 
before six — remember — at my lodgings. — A poor 
industrious devil like me, who have toil'd, and drudg'd, 
and plotted to gain my ends, and am at last disap- 
pointed by other people's folly — may in pity be al- 
lowed to swear and grumble a little; — but a [150 
captious sceptic in love, — a slave to f retfulness and 
whim — who has no difficulties but of his own creating 

— is a subject more fit for ridicule than compassion ! 

[Exit Absolute. 

Faulk. I feel his reproaches ! — yet I would not 
change this too exquisite nicety for the gross con- [155 
tent with which he tramples on the thorns of love. — 
His engaging me in this duel has started an idea in 
my head, which I will instantly pursue. — I '11 use it 
as the touchstone of Julia's sincerity and disinterested- 
ness. — If her love prove pure and sterling ore [160 

— my name will rest on it with honour! — and once 

141. not unsought be won : quoted from Milton's Paradise 
Lost, viii, 503. 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 103 

I've stamp'd it there, I lay aside my doubts for ever : 
■ — but if the dross of selfishness, the allay of pride 
predominate — 'twill be best to leave her as a toy for 
some less cautious Fool to sigh for. [Exit Faulkland. 

END OF THE FOUKTH ACT. 

ACT V 

Scene I. Julia's Dressing-Room. 
Julia, sola, 

Jul. How this message has alarmed me! What 
dreadful accident can he mean ! why such charge to 
be alone ? — O Faulkland ! — how many unhappy mo- 
ments ! — how many tears have you cost me ! 4 

Enter Faulkland, muffled up in a Riding-coat, 

Jul. What means this ? — why this caution, Faulk- 
land ? 

Faulk. Alas ! Julia, I am come to take a long 
farewell. 

Jul. Heav'ns ! what do you mean ? 9 

Faulk. You see before you a wretch, whose life is 
forfeited. — Nay, start not ! — the infirmity of my 
temper has drawn all this misery on me. — I left you 
fretful and passionate — an untoward accident drew 
me into a quarrel — the event is, that I must fly this 
kingdom instantly. — O Julia, had I been so for- [15 
tun ate as to have call'd you mine intirely before this 
mischance had fallen on me, I should not so deeply 
dread my banishment ! — But no more of that — your 

Scene I : The first part of this scene was probably suggested 
by an incident in Sidney Bidulph, the novel by Sheridan's 
mother. See the Introduction, p. xxi. 



104 THE RIVALS [Act V 

heart and promise were given to one happy in friends^ 
character and station ! they are not bound to wait upon 
a solitary, guilty exile. 21 

Jul. My soul is oppres'd with sorrow at the nature, 
of your misfortune : had these adverse circumstances 
arisen from a less fatal cause, I should have felt strong 
comfort in the thought that I could now chase [25 
from your bosom every doubt of the warm sincerity of 
my love. — My heart has long known no other guard- 
ian. — I now entrust my person to your honour — we 
will fly together. — When safe from pursuit, my 
Father's will maybe fulfilled — and I receive a [30 
legal claim to be the partner of your sorrows, and ten- 
derest comforter. Then on the bosom of your wedded 
Julia, you may lull your keen regret to slumbering ; 
while virtuous love, with a Cherub's hand, shall smooth 
the brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn 
from compunction. 36 

Faulk. O Julia! I am bankrupt in gratitude! But 
the time is so pressing, it calls on you for so hasty a 
resolution — would you not wish some hours to weigh 
the advantages you forego, and what little com- [40 
pensation poor Faulkland can make you beside his 
solitary love ? 

Jul. I ask not a moment. — No, Faulkland, I have 
lov'd you for yourself : and if I now, more than ever, 
prize the solemn engagement which so long has [45 
pledged us to each other, it is because it leaves no 
room for hard aspersions on my fame, and puts the 
seal of duty to an act of love. — But let us not linger. 
- — Perhaps this delay 49 

Faulk. 'Twill be better I should not venture out 
again till dark. — Yet am I griev'd to think what 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 105 

numberless distresses will press heavy on your gentle 
disposition ! 

Jul. Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by this 
unhappy act. — I know not whether 'tis so — but [55 
sure that alone can never make us unhappy. — The 
little I have will be sufficient to support us ; and exile 
never should be splendid. 

Faulk. Aye, but in such an abject state of life my 
wounded pride perhaps may increase the natural [60 
fretf alness of my temper, till I become a rude, morose 
companion, beyond your patience to endure. Perhaps 
the recollection of a deed my conscience cannot justify, 
may haunt me in such gloomy and unsocial fits, that I 
shall hate the tenderness that would relieve me, [65 
break from your arms, and quarrel with your fondness ! 

Jul. If your thoughts should assume so unhappy a 
bent, you will the more want some mild and affection- 
ate spirit to watch over and console you: — one who, 
by bearing your infirmities with gentleness and [70 
resignation, may teach you so to bear the evils of your 
fortune. 

Faulk. O Julia, I have proved you to the quick! 
and with this useless device I throw away all my 
doubts. How shall I plead to be forgiven this last [75 
unworthy effect of my restless, unsatisfied disposition? 

Jul. Has no such disaster happened as you related ? 

Faulk. I am ashamed to own that it was all pre- 
tended ; yet in pity, Julia, do not kill me with resent- 
ing a fault which never can be repeated : but seal- [80 
ing, this once, my pardon, let me to-morrow, in the 
face of Heaven, receive my future guide and monitress, 
and expiate my past folly by years of tender adora- 
tion. 84 



106 THE RIVALS [Act V 

Jul. Hold, Faulkland ! — That you are free from 
a crime which I before fear'd to name, Heaven 
knows how sincerely I rejoice ! — These are tears of 
thankfulness for that ! But that your cruel doubts 
should have urged you to an imposition that has 
wrung my heart, gives me now a pang more keen than 
I can express ! 91 

Faulk. By Heav'ns ! Julia 

Jul. Yet hear me. — My Father lov'd you, Faulk- 
land ! and you preserved the life that tender parent 
gave me ; in his presence I pledged my hand — [95 
joyfully pledged it — where before I had given my 
heart. When, soon after, I lost that parent, it seem'd 
to me that Providence had, in Faulkland, shewn me 
whither to transfer without a pause my grateful duty, 
as well as my affection: hence I have been con- [100 
cent to bear from you what pride and delicacy would 
have forbid me from another. — I will not upbraid 
you by repeating how you have trifled with my sin- 
cerity. 

Faulk. I confess it all ! yet hear 105 

Jul. After such a year of trial — I might have 
flattered myself that I should not have been insulted 
with a new probation of my sincerity, as cruel as un- 
necessary! A trick of such a nature as to shew me 
plainly that w r hen I thought you lov'd me best, [110 
you even then regarded me as a mean dissembler ; an 
artful, prudent hypocrite. 

Faulk. Never ! never ! 

Jul. I now see it is not in your nature to be con- 
tent or confident in love. With this conviction [115 
■ — I never will be yours. While I had hopes that 
jny persevering attention and unreproaching kindness 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 107 

might in time reform your temper, I should have been 
happy to have gain'd a dearer influence over you ; but 
I will not furnish you with a licensed power to [120 
keep alive an incorrigible fault, at the expense of one 
who never would contend with you. 

Faulk. Nay, but Julia, by my soul and honour, if 
after this 124 

Jul But one word more. — As my faith has once 
been given to you, I never will barter it with an- 
other. — I shall pray for your happiness with the 
truest sincerity ; and the dearest blessing I can ask of 
Heaven to send you will be to charm you from that un- 
happy temper which alone has prevented the per- [130 
f ormance of our solemn engagement. — All I request 
of you is that you will yourself reflect upon this infirm- 
ity, and when you number up the many true delights 
it has deprived you of — let it not be your least regret 
that it lost you the love of one — who would have [135 
follow'd you in beggary through the world ! [Exit. 

Faulk. She's gone ! — for ever ! — There was an 
awful resolution in her manner, that rivetted me to 
my place. — O Fool ! — Dolt ! — Barbarian ! — Curst 
as I am with more imperfections than my fellow- [140 
wretches, kind Fortune sent a heaven-gifted cherub to 
my aid, and, like a ruffian, I have driven her from my 
side ! — I must now haste to my appointment. — Well, 
my mind is tuned for such a scene. — I shall wish only 
to become a principal in it, and reverse the tale [145 
my cursed folly put me upon forging here. — O 
Love ! — Tormentor ! — Fiend ! — whose influence, like 
the Moon's, acting on men of dull souls, makes idiots 
of them, but meeting subtler spirits, betrays their 
course, and urges sensibility to madness ! [Exit, [150 



108 THE RIVALS [Act V 

Enter Maid and Lydia. 

Maid. My Mistress, Ma'am, I know, was here just 
now — perhaps she is only in the next room. [Exit Maid. 

Lyd. Heigh ho ! — Though he has used me so, this 
fellow runs strangely in my head. I believe one lec- 
ture from my grave Cousin will make me recall 

him. 156 

Enter Julia. 

Lyd. O Julia, I am come to you with such an ap- 
petite for consolation. — Lud! Child, what's the mat- 
ter with you? — You have been crying! — I'll be 
hanged if that Faulkland has not been tormenting 
you! 161 

Jul. You mistake the cause of my uneasiness. — 
Something has flurried me a little. — Nothing that 
you can guess at. — [JLsit?e] I would not accuse Faulk- 
land to a Sister ! 165 

Lyd. Ah ! whatever vexations you may have, I can 
assure you mine surpass them. — You know who Bev- 
erley proves to be ? 

Jul. I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr. Faulk- 
land had before inform'd me of the whole affair. [170 
Had young Absolute been the person you took him 
for, I should not have accepted your confidence on the 
subject without a serious endeavour to counteract your 
caprice. 

Lyd. So, then, I see I have been deceived by every 
one ! — But I don't care — I'll never have him. [176 

Jul. Nay, Lydia 

Lyd. Why, is it not provoking ; when I thought 

we were coming to the prettiest distress imaginable, to 

find myself made a mere Smithfield bargain of at [180 

180. Smithfield bargain : " Frequently used to express 
matches, or marriages, contracted solely on the score of interest, 



Scene I] THE RIVALS 109 

last ! — There had I projected one of the most senti- 
mental elopements ! — so becoming a disguise ! — so 
amiable a ladder of Ropes ! — Conscious Moon — four 
horses — Scotch parson — with such surprise to Mrs. 
Malaprop — and such paragraphs in the News-papers! 
- — O, I shall die with disappointment! 186 

Jul. I don't wonder at it ! 

Lyd. Now — sad reverse ! — what have I to expect, 
but, after a deal of flimsy preparation, with a bishop's 
licence, and my Aunt's blessing, to go simpering [190 
up to the Altar ; or perhaps be cried three times in a 
country-church, and have an unmannerly fat clerk ask 
the consent of every butcher in the parish to join John 
Absolute and Lydia Languish, Spinster! O, that I 
should live to hear myself called Spinster ! 195 

Jul. Melancholy, indeed! 

Lyd. How mortifying to remember the dear deli- 
cious shifts I used to be put to to gain half a minute's 
conversation with this fellow ! — How often have I 
stole forth in the coldest night in January, and [200 
found him in the garden, stuck like a dripping statue ! 
■ — There would he kneel to me in the snow, and sneeze 
and cough so pathetically ! he shivering with cold, and 
I with apprehension ! And while the freezing blast 
numb'd our joints, how warmly would he press [205 
me to pity his flame, and glow with mutual ardour ! — 
Ah, Julia, that was something like being in love ! 

Jid. If I were in spirits, Lyclia, I should chide you 

on one or both sides, where the fair sex are bought and sold like 
-attle in Smithfield." — Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue 
[1785). Smithfield was originally the great London market for 

cattle. 

184. Scotch parson : famous for marrying runaway couples 

from England. 



110 THE RIVALS [Act V 

only by laughing heartily at you: but it suits more the 
situation of my mind, at present, earnestly to [210 
entreat you not to let a man, who loves you with sin- 
cerity, suffer that unhappiness from your caprice. 
which I know too well caprice can inflict. 

Lyd. O Lud ! what has brought my Aunt here ! 

Enter Mrs. Malaprop, Fag, and David. 

Mrs. Mai. So ! so ! here's fine work ! — here's [215 
fine suicide, paracide, and salivation going on in the 
fields ! and Sir Anthony not to be found to prevent 
the antistrophe ! 

Jul. For Heaven's sake, Madam, what's the mean- 
ing of this ? 22G 

Mrs. Mai. That gentleman can tell you — 'twas h§, 
enveloped the affair to me. 

Lyd. Do, Sir, will you, inform us. [To Fag. 

Fag. Ma'am, I should hold myself very deficient 
in every requisite that forms the man of breeding [225 
if I delay'd a moment to give all the information in 
my power to a lady so deeply interested in the affair 
as you are. 

Lyd. But quick ! quick, Sir ! 229 

Fag. True, Ma'am, as you say, one should be quick 
in divulging matters of this nature ; for should we be 
tedious, perhaps while we are flourishing on the sub- 
ject two or three lives may be lost ! 

Lyd. O patience ! — Do, Ma'am, for Heaven's 
sake ! tell us what is the matter ! 235 

Mrs. Mai. Why, murder's the matter ! slaughter's 

216. salivation: an excessive flow of saliva, accompanied often 
with soreness of the mouth, and dropping of the teeth ; due gen- 
erally to an overdose of some compound of mercury. The third 
edition reads "simulation." 



Scene I] THE EIVALS 111 

the matter ! killing's the matter ! — But he can tell 
you the perpendiculars. 

Lyd. Then, prythee, Sir, be brief. 239 

Fag. Why then, Ma'am — as to murder — I can- 
not take upon me to say — and as to slaughter, or 
man-slaughter, that will be as the jury finds it. 

Lyd. But who, Sir — who are engaged in this ? 

Fag. Faith, Ma'am, one is a young gentleman 
whom I should be very sorry anything was to [245 
happen to — a very pretty behaved gentleman ! — We 
have lived much together, and always on terms. 

Lyd. But who is this ? who ! who ! who ! 

Fag. My Master, Ma'am — my Master — I speak 
of my Master. 250 

Lyd. Heavens ! What, Captain Absolute ! 

Mrs. Mai. O, to be sure, you are frightened now ! 

Jid. But who are with him, Sir ? 

Fag. As to the rest, Ma'am, his gentleman can in- 
form you better than I. 255 

Jul. Do speak, friend. \To David. 

David. Look'ee, my Lady — by the Mass ! there's 
mischief going on. — Folks don't use to meet for 
amusement with fire-arms, fire-locks, fire-engines, fire- 
screens, fire-office, and the devil knows what other [260 
crackers besides ! — This, my Lady, I say, has an 
angry favour. 

Jul. But who is there beside Captain Absolute, 
friend ? - 264 

David. My poor Master — under favour, for men- 
tioning him first. — You know me, my Lady — I am 
David — and my Master, of course, is, or was, Squire 
Acres. — Then comes Squire Faulkland. 

Jul. Do, Ma'am, let us instantly endeavour to pre- 
vent mischief. 270 



112 THE RIVALS [ActV 

Mrs. Mai. O fie — it would be very inelegant in 
us : — we should only participate things. 

Dav. Ah ! do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives. — They 
are desperately given, believe me. — Above all, [274 
there is that blood-thirsty Philistine, Sir Lucius 
O'Trigger. 

Mrs. Mai. Sir Lucius O'Trigger ! — O mercy ! 
have they drawn poor little dear Sir Lucius into the 
scrape ? — Why, how you stand, girl ! you have no 
more feeling than one of the Derbyshire Putrefactions ! 

Lyd. What are we to do, Madam ? 281 

Mrs. Mai. Why, fly with the utmost felicity, to be 
sure, to prevent mischief. — Here, friend — you can 
shew us the place ? 284 

Fag. If you please, Ma'am, I will conduct you. — 
David, do you look for Sir Anthony. [Exit David 

Mrs. Mai. Come, girls! — this gentleman will ex- 
hort us. — Come, Sir, you're our envoy — lead the 
way, and we'll precede. 289 

Fag. Not a step before the ladies for the world ! 

Mrs. Mai. You're sure you know the spot ? 

Fag. I think I can find it, Ma'am ; and one good 
thing is we shall hear the report of the pistols as we 
draw near, so we can't well miss them : never fear, 

Ma'am, never fear. [Exeunt, he talking. 

Scene II. South-Parade. 
Enter Absolute, putting his sword under his great-coat, 

Abs. A sword seen in the streets of Bath would raise 
as great an alarm as a mad-dog. How provoking this 

280. Putrefactions : petrifactions. Derbyshire is famous for 
its fossils. See The Victoria History of the County of Derby (Lon- 
don, 1905), vol. i. 

1. sword . . . Bath : see iii, 4, 74, note. 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 113 

is in Faulkland ! — never punctual I I shall be obliged 
to go without him at last. — 0, the devil ! here's Sir 

Anthony ! How shall I escape him ? 5 

[Muffles up his/ace, and takes a circle to go iff. 
Enter Sir Anthony. 

Sir Anth. How one may be deceived at a little dis- 
tance ! Only that I see he don't know me, I could have 
sworn that was Jack ! — Hey ! — 'Gad's life ! it is. — = 
Why, Jack, you Dog ! — what are you afraid of ? — - 
hey! — sure I'm right. — Why, Jack! — Jack Abso- 
lute! {Goes up to him, [11 

Abs. Really, Sir, you have the advantage of nie : — 

I don't remember ever to have had the honour my 

name is Saunderson, at your service. 14 

Sir Anth. Sir, I # beg your pardon — I took you — 

hey ! — why, z — ds ! it is Stay [Looks up to 

his face] — So, so — your humble servant, Mr. Saun- 
derson! — Why, you scoundrel, what tricks are you 
after now ? 

Abs. O, a joke, Sir, a joke ! — I came here on pur- 
pose to look for you, Sir. 21 

Sir Anth. You did ! Well, I am glad you were so 
lucky. — But what are you muffled up so for? — what's 
this for? — hey? 

Abs. Tis cool, Sir ; isn't it? — rather chilly, some- 
how ? — But I shall be late — I have a particular en- 
gagement. 27 

Sir Anth. Stay. — Why, I thought you were look- 
ing for me ? — Pray, Jack, where is't you are going ? 

Abs. Going, Sir ! 

Sir Anth. Aye — where are you going? 31 

Abs. Where am I going? 

Sir Anth. You unmannerly puppy ! 



114 THE RIVALS [Act V 

Abs. I was going, Sir, to — to — to — to Lydia — 
Sir, to Lydia — to make matters up if I could ; — and 
I was looking for you, Sir, to — to 36 

Sir Anth. To go with you, I suppose. — Well, come 
along. 

Abs. O! z — ds ! no, Sir, not for the world! — I 

wish'd to meet with you, Sir, — to — to — to— [40 

You find it cool, I'm sure, Sir — you'd better not stay 
out. 

Sir Anth. Cool ! — not at all. — Well, Jack — and 
what will you say to Lydia ? 

Abs. O, Sir, beg her pardon, humour her — [45 
promise and vow : — but I detain you, Sir — consider 
the cold air on your gout. 

Sir Anth. O, not at all ! — not* at all ! — I'm in no 
hurry. — Ah ! Jack, you youngsters, when once you 
are wounded here — [Patting his hand to Absolutes 
breast] Hey ! what the deuce have you got here ? [51 

Abs. Nothing, Sir — nothing. 

Sir Anth. What's this? — -Here's something d — d 
hard ! 54 

Abs. O, trinkets, Sir! trinkets — a bauble for Lydia! 

Sir Anth. Nay, let me see your taste. [Pulls his 
coat open, the sword falls] Trinkets ! — a bauble for 
Lydia ! — z — ds ! sirrah, you are not going to cut her 
throat, are you ? 59 

Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — I thought it would divert you, 
Sir ; tho' I didn't mean to tell you till afterwards. 

Sir Anth. You didn't? — Yes, this is a very divert- 
ing trinket, truly ! 

Abs. Sir, I'll explain to you. — You know, Sir, Lydia 
is romantic — dev'lish romantic, and very absurd [65 
of course. — Now, Sir, I intend, if she refuses to for- 



Scene II] THE RIVALS 115 

give me — to un sheath this sword — and swear — I'll 
fall upon its point, and expire at her feet ! 

Sir Anth. Fall upon fiddle-stick's end! — why, I 
suppose it is the very thing that would please her. — 
Get along, you Fool. — 71 

A bs. Well, Sir, you shall hear of my success — you 
shall hear. — " O Lydia! — forgive me, or this pointed 
steel' 1 — says I. 74 

Sir Anth. "O, Booby! stab away and welcome" 
— says she. — Get along ! — and d — n your trinkets ! 

[Exit Absolute. 
Enter David running. 

Dav, Stop him ! Stop him ! Murder ! Thief ! 
Fire ! — Stop fire ! Stop fire ! — O ! Sir Anthony — 
Call ! Call ! Bid 'em stop ! Murder ! Fire ! 

Sir Anth. Fire ! Murder ! Where ? 80 

Dav. Oons ! he's out of sight ! and I'm out of breath 
for my part ! O, Sir Anthony, why didn't you stop 
him ? why didn't you stop him ? 

Sir Anth. Z — ds ! the fellow's mad ! — Stop whom ? 
Stop Jack ? . 85 

Dav. Aye, the Captain, Sir ! — There's murder and 
slaughter 

Sir Anth. Murder ! 

Dav. Aye, please you, Sir Anthony, there's all kinds 
of murder, all sorts of slaughter to be seen in the [90 
fields : there's fighting going on, Sir — bloody sword° 
and-gun fighting ! 

Sir Anth. Who are going to fight, Dunce ? 

Dav. Every body that I know of, Sir Anthony : — 
every body is going to fight ; my poor Master, Sir 
Lucius O'Trigger, your son, the Captain [96 

Sir Anth. O, the Dog ! — I see his tricks, — Do 
you know the place ? 



116 THE RIVALS [Act \ 

Dav. King's Mead-Fields. 
- Sir Anth. You know the way? 100 

Dav. Not an inch ; — but I'll call the Mayor 
■ — Aldermen — Constables — Church-wardens — and 
Beadles. — We can't be too many to part them. 

Sir Anth. Come along. — Give me your shoulder ! 
We'll get assistance as we go. — The lying villain ! [105 
— Well, I shall be in such a frenzy ! — So — this 
was the history of his d — d trinkets ! I'll bauble him ! 

[Exeunt. 
Scene III. King's Mead-Fields. 

Sir Lucius and Acres, with pistols. 

Acres. By my valour ! then, Sir Lucius, forty yards 
is a good distance. — Odds levels and aims ! — I say it 
is a good distance. 

Sir Luc. Is it for muskets or small field-pieces ? 
Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave [5 
those things to me. — Stay now — I'll shew you. — 
[Measures paces along the stage"] There now, that is a 
verv pretty distance — a pretty gentleman's distance. 

Acres. Z — ds ! we might as well fight in a sentry- 
box ! — I'll tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off 
the cooler I shall take my aim. 11 

Sir Luc. Faith ! then I suppose you would aim at 
him best of all if he was out of sight ! 

Acres. No, Sir Lucius — but I should think forty, 
or eight and thirty yards 15 

Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! nonsense ! Three or four feet 
between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile. 

Acres. Odds bullets, no ! — By my valour ! there is 
no merit in killing him so near. — Do, my dear Sir 
Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot: — a 
long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me ! 21 



Scene III] THE RIVALS II? 

Sir Luc. Well — the gentleman's friend and I must 
settle that. - — But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of 
an accident, is there any little will or commission I 
could execute for you ? 25 

Acres. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius — but 
I don't understand 

Sir Luc. Why, you may think there's no being shot 
jit without a little risk — and if an unlucky bullet 
should carry a Quietus with it — I say it will be no 
time then to be bothering you about family matters. [31 

Acres. A Quietus! 

Sir Luc. For instance, now — if that should be the 
case — would you chuse to be pickled and sent home ? 
— or would it be the same to you to lie here in [35 
the Abbey ? — I'm told there is very snug lying in the 
Abbey. 

Acres. Pickled ! — Snug lying in the Abbey ! — 
Odds tremors ! Sir Lucius, don't talk so ! 

Sir Luc. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were en- 
gaged in an affair of this kind before ? 41 

Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before. 

Sir Luc. Ah ! that's a pity ! — there's nothing like 
being used to a thing. — Pray now, how would you 
receive the gentleman's shot ? 45 

Acres. Odds files ! — I've practised that. — There, 
Sir Lucius — there [Puts himself in an attitude] 

a side-front, hey ? — Odd ! I'll make myself small 

enough : — I'll stand edge-ways. 

Sir Luc. Now — - you're quite out — for if you stand 
so when I take my aim [Levelling at Mm. [51 

Acres. 7a — ds J Sir Lucius — are you sure it is not 
cock'd? 

Sir Luc. Never fear. 

30. Abbey ' The cathedral church of Bath. Sec tho map. 



118 THE RIVALS L ^V 

Acres. But — but — you don't know — it may go 
off of its own head ! 56 

Sir Luc. Pho ! be easy. — Well, now if I hit you in 
the body, my bullet has a double chance — for if it 
misses a vital part of your right side — 'twill be very 
hard if it don't succeed on the left ! 60 

Acres. A vital part ! O, my poor vitals ! 

Sir Luc. But, there — fix yourself so. — [Placing 
him~\ Let him see the broad side of your full front. — 
There. — Now a ball or two may pass clean thro' your 
body, and never do any harm at all. 65 

Acres. Clean thro' me ! — a ball or two clean thro' 



me 



Sir Luc. Aye — may they — and it is much the 
genteelest attitude into the bargain. 69 

Acres. Look'ee ! Sir Lucius — I'd just as lieve be 
shot in an aukward posture as a genteel one — so, by 
my valour ! I will stand edge-ways. 

Sir Luc. [Looking at his watcK\ Sure they don't 
mean to disappoint us — hah ? — No, faith — I think 
I see them coming. 75 

Acres. Hey ! — What ! — Coming ! 

Sir Luc. Aye. — Who are those yonder getting 
over the stile ? 

Acres. There are two of them indeed! — Well — 
let them come — hey, Sir Lucius ? we — we — we — we 
— won't run. — 81 

Sir Luc. Run ! 

Acres. No — I say — we won't run, by my valour! 

Sir Luc. What the devil's the matter with you? 

Acres. Nothing — nothing — my dear friend — [85 
my dear Sir Lucius — but — I — I — I don't feel quite 
so bold, somehow — as I did. 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 11& 

Sir Luc. O fie ! — consider your honour. 

Acres. Aye — true — my honour. — Do, Sir Lucius, 
edge in a word or two every now and then about my 
honour. 91 

Sir Luc. Well, here they're coming. [Looking, 

Acres. Sir Lucius — if I wa'n't with you, I should 
almost think I was afraid. — If my valour should leave 
me ! — Valour will come and go. 95 

Sir LjUC. Then, pray, keep it fast while you have 
it. 

Acres. Sir Lucius — I doubt it is going. — Yes — - 
my valour is certainly going ! — It is sneaking off ! — I 
feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of my hands ! 

Sir Luc. Your honour — your honour. — Here [101 
they are. 

Acres, O mercy! — now — that I were safe at 
Clod-Hall ! or could be shot before I was aware ! 

Enter Faulkland and Absolute. 

Sir Luc. Gentlemen, your most obedient — [105 
hah ! — what — Captain Absolute ! — So, I suppose, 
Sir, you are come here, just like myself — to do a 
kind office, first for your friend — then to proceed to 
business on your own account. 109 

Acres. What, Jack ! — my dear Jack ! — my dear 
friend ! 

Abs. Hark'ee, Bob, Beverley's at hand. 

Sir Luc. Well, Mr. Acres — I don't blame your 
saluting the gentleman civilly. — So, Mr. Beverley \to 
Faulkland], if you'll chuse your weapons, the Captain 
5ind I will measure the ground. 116 

103^. now —that I were safe at Clod-Hall ! Cf. Falstaff 
pn the battle-field, / Henry IV, v, 2, 125 : " I would 'twere bed- 
iime 3 Hal, and all well." 



120 THE RIVALS [Act V 

Falk. My weapons, Sir ! 

Acres. Odds life ! Sir Lucius, I'm not going to fight 
Mr. Faulkland. These are my particular friends. 

Sir Luc. What, Sir, did not you come here to fight 
Mr. Acres? 121 

Faulk. Not I, upon my word, Sir. 

Sir Luc. Well, now, that's mighty provoking ! But 
I hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of us come 
on purpose for the game — you won't be so cantanck- 
erous as to spoil the party by sitting out. 126 

Abs. O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius. 

Faulk. Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the mat- 
ter 129 

Acres. No, no, Mr. Faulkland — I'll bear my disap- 
pointment like a Christian. — Look'ee, Sir Lucius, 
there's no occasion at all for me to fight ; and if it is 
the same to you, I'd as lieve let it alone. 

Sir Luc. Observe me, Mr. Acres — I must not be 
trifled with. You have certainly challenged some- [135 
body — and you came here to fight him. — Now, if 
that gentleman is willing to represent him — I can't 
see, for my soul, why it isn't just the same thing. 

Acres. Z — ds, Sir Lucius — I tell you, 'tis one Bev- 
erley I've challenged — a fellow, you see, that [140 
dare not shew his face ! If he were here, I'd make him 
give up his pretensions directly ! 

Abs. Hold, Bob — let me set you right. — There is 
no such man as Beverley in the case. — The person 
who assumed that name is before you ; and as [145 
his pretensions are the same in both characters, he is 
ready to support them in whatever way you please. 

Sir Luc. Well, this is lucky ! — Now you have an 
opportunity 149 



Scene III] THE 2IVALS 121 

Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend Jack 
Absolute ? — Not if he were fifty Beverleys ! Z — ds J 
Sir Lucius, you would not have me be so unnatural. 

Sir Luc. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, youi 
valour has oozed away with a vengeance ! 154 

Acres. Not in the least ! Odds Backs and Abettors I 
I'll be your second with all my heart — and if you, 
should get a Quietus, you may command me en- 
tirely. I'll get you a snug lying in the Abbey here ; or 
pickle you, and send you over to Blunderbuss-hall, or 
any thing of the kind, with the greatest pleasure. [160 

Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! you are little better than a 
coward. 

Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a Coward; 
Coward was the word, by my valour ! 

Sir Luc. Well, Sir ? 165 

Acres. Look'ee, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind the 
word Coward. — Coward may be said in joke. — 
But if you had call'd me a Poltroon, Odds Daggers and 
Balls! 

Sir Luc. Well, sir ? 170 

Acres. 1 should have thought you a very 

ill-bred man. 

Sir Luc. Pho ! you are beneath my notice. 

Abs. Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better second 
than my friend Acres. — He is a most determined [175 
dog — call'd in the country, Fighting Bob. — Hd 
generally hills a man a iveek ; don't you, Bob ? 

Acres. Aye — at home ! 

'Sir Luc. Well then, Captain, 'tis we must begin. — 
So come out, my little counsellor [Draws his sword '], 
and ask the gentleman, whether he will resign [181 
the lady without forcing you to proceed against him. 



122 THE RIVALS [Act V 

A bs. Come on then, Sir ; [Draws] since you won't 
let it be an amicable suit, here's my reply. 184 

Enter Sir Anthony, David, and the Women. 

David. Knock 'em all down, sweet Sir Anthony ; 
knock down my Master in particular — and bind his 
hands over to their good behaviour ! 

Sir Anth. Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in a 
frenzy. — How came you in a duel, Sir? 189 

Abs. Faith, Sir, that gentleman can tell you better 
than I ; 'twas he call'd on me, and you know, Sir, I 
serve his Majesty. 

Sir Anth. Here's a pretty fellow ! I catch him going 
to cut a man's throat, and he tells me he serves his 
Majesty ! — Zounds ! sirrah, then how durst you draw 
the King's sword against one of his subjects ? 196 

Abs. Sir, I tell you ! That gentleman call'd me out, 
without explaining his reasons. 

Sir Anth. Gad ! Sir, how came you to call my son 
out without explaining your reasons ? 200 

Sir Luc. Your son, Sir, insulted me in a manner 
which my honour could not brook. 

Sir Anth. Zounds ! Jack, how durst you insult the 
gentleman in a manner which his honour could not 
brook ? 205 

Mrs. Mai. Come, come, let's have no Honour before 
ladies. — Captain Absolute, come here. — How could 
you intimidate us so ? ■ — Here's Lydia has been terri- 
fied to death for you. 209 

Abs. For fear I should be kill'd, or escape, Ma'am ? 

Mrs. Mai. Nay, no delusions to the past. — Lydia 
is convinc'd. — Speak child. 

Sir Luc. With your leave, Ma'am, I must put in a 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 123 

word here. — I believe I could interpret the young 
lady's silence. — Now mark 215 

Lyd. What is it you mean, Sir ? 

Sir Luc. Come, come, Delia, we must be serious 
now — this is no time for trifling. 

Lyd. 'Tis true, Sir ; and your reproof bids me offer 
this gentleman my hand, and solicit the return of hif 
affections. 221 

Abs. O ! my little angel, say you so? — Sir Lucius 

— I perceive there must be some mistake here. — Witl 
regard to the affront which you affirm I have given yoi 

— I can only say that it could not have been in- [225 
tentional. — And as you must be convinced that I 
should not fear to support a real injury — you shall 
now see that I am not ashamed to atone for an inad- 
vertency. — I ask your pardon. — But for this lady, 
while honour 'd with her approbation, I will support 
my claim against any man whatever. 231 

Sir Anth. Well said, Jack ! and I'll stand by you, 
my Boy. 

Acres. Mind, I give up all my claim — I make no 
pretensions to anything in the world — and if I [235 
can't get a wife without fighting for her, by my Valour ! 
I'll live a bachelor. 

Sir Luc. Captain, give me your hand. — An affront 
handsomely acknowledged becomes an obligation. — - 
And as for the Lady — if she chuses to deny her own 
hand-writing here [Taking out letters. [241 

Mrs. Mai. O, he will dissolve my mystery ! — Sir 
Lucius, perhaps there's some mistake — perhaps, I car 
illuminate 244 

Sir Luc. Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere 
where you have no business. — Miss Languish, are you 
mv Delia, or not ? 



124 THE KIVALS [Act V 

Lyd. Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not. 

ILydia and Absolute walk aside. 

Mrs. Mai. Sir Lucius O 'Trigger ■ — ungrateful as 
you are — I own the soft impeachment. — Pardon my 
blushes, I am Delia. 251 

Sir Luc. You Delia ! — pho ! pho ! be easy. 

Mrs. Mai. Why, thou barbarous Vandyke ! — those 
letters are mine. — When you are more sensible of my 
benignity — perhaps I may be brought to encourage 
your addresses. 256 

Sir Luc. Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensible 
of your condescension ; and whether you or Lucy have 
put this trick upon me, I am equally beholden to you. — 
And to shew you I'm not ungrateful — Captain [260 
Absolute ! since you have taken that lady from me, 
I'll give you my Delia into the bargain. 

Abs. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius ; but 
here's our friend, fighting Bob, unprovided for. 264 

Sir Luc. Hah ! little Valour — here, will you make 
your fortune ? 

Acres. Odds Wrinkles ! No. — But give us your 
hand, Sir Lucius ; forget and forgive. But if ever I 
give you a chance of pickling me again, say Bob Acres 
is a Dunce, that's all. 270 

Sir Anth. Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast 
down — you are in your bloom yet. 

Mrs., Mai. O Sir Anthony! — men are all barbari- 
ans [All retire but Julia and Faulkland. [274 

Jul. [Aside] He seems dejected and unhappy — 
Mot sullen. — There was some foundation, however, for 
the tale he told me. — O woman ! how true should be 
your judgment, when your resolution is so weak ! 

Faulk. Julia ! — how can I sue for what I so little 



Scene III] THE RIVALS 125 

deserve ? I dare not presume — yet Hope is the child 
of Penitence. 281 

Jul. Oh ! Faulkland, you have not been more faulty 
in your unkind treatment of me than I am now in 
wanting inclination to resent it. As my heart honestly 
bids me place my weakness to the account of love, [285 
I should be ungenerous not to admit the same plea for 
yours. 

Faulk. Now I shall be blest indeed ! 

[Sir Anthony comes forward. 

Sir Antli. What's going on here ? — So you have 
been quarrelling too, I warrant. — Come, Julia, I [290 
never interfered before ; but let me have a hand in the 
matter at last. — All the faults I have ever seen in my 
friend Faulkland seemed to proceed from what he calls 
the delicacy and warmth of his affection for you. — 
There, marry him directly, Julia. You'll find [295 

he'll mend surprisingly ! [The rest come forward. 

Sir Luc. Come now, I hope there is no dissatisfied 
person but what is content ; for as I have been dis- 
appointed myself, it will be very hard if I have not 
the satisfaction of seeing other people succeed bet- 
ter 301 

Acres. You are right, Sir Lucius. — So, Jack, I wish 
you joy. — Mr. Faulkland the same. — Ladies, — come 
now, to shew you I'm neither vex'd nor angry, Odds 
Tabors and Pipes ! I'll order the fiddles in half [305 
an hour to the New Rooms — and I insist on you all 
meeting me there. 

Sir Anih. Gad ! Sir, I like your spirit ; and at 
uight we single lads will drink a health to the young 
fouples, and a husband to Mrs. Malaprop. 310 

Faulk. Our partners are stolen from us, Jack — I 



126 THE RIVALS [Act V 

hope to be congratulated by each other — yours for 
having checked in time the errors of an ill-directed 
Imagination, which might have betray'd an innocent 
heart ; and mine, for having, by her gentleness [315 
and candour, reformed the unhappy temper of one 
who by it made wretched whom he loved most, and 
tortured the heart he ought to have ador'd. 

Abs. Well, Faulkland, we have both tasted the Bit- 
ters, as well as the Sweets, of Love — with this [320 
difference only, that you always prepared the bitter 
cup for yourself, while / 

Lyd. Was always obliged to me for it, hey, Mr. 
Modesty ? But come, no more of that — our hap- 
piness is now as unalloy'd as general. 325 

Jul. Then let us study to preserve it so ; and while 
Hope pictures to us a flattering scene of future Bliss, 
let us deny its pencil those colours which are too bright 
to be lasting. — When Hearts deserving Happiness 
would unite their fortunes, Virtue would crown [330 
them with an unfading garland of modest, hurtless 
flowers ; but ill-judging Passion will force the gaudier 
Rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them, when 
its Leaves are dropt ! [Exeunt omnes. 



EPILOGUE 



BY THE AUTHOR 



Spoken by Mrs. Bulkley. 

Ladies, for You — I heard our Poet say — 
He'd try to coax some Moral from his Play : 

Epilogue : The epilogue was very much admired at the time. 
A few quotations from the newspapers will show how well 
it was received. " We want words to express the satisfaction the 
last-mentioned lady [Mrs. Bulkley] gave by her just, elegant 
manner of speaking one of the most excellent and poetical Epi- 
logues we ever remember to have heard." — The Morning Chron- 
icle, Jan. 18, 1775. " The Epilogue, however, made amends ; 
for it struck us as one of the most harmonious, pretty pieces of 
the kind we have heard for some time." — The Morning Post, 
Jan. 18, 1775. " The Epilogue is so exceedingly refined, elegant, 
a~id classical that it equals, if not exceeds, anything of the sort 
that Roscius [Garrick] himself hath ever produced ; it breathes 
throughout the elegant effusion of refined sentiments, and con- 
cludes with the noble ideas of ' lighting the lamp of wisdom 
with the torch of love.' — Mrs. Bulkley spoke the Epilogue ex- 
ceedingly well." — Letter in The Morning Post, Jan. 20, 1775. 
" The Epilogue ... is, perhaps, upon the whole, the best com- 
position of the sort that the Theatre has been honoured with for 
some years." — The Gazetteer, Jan. 21, 1775. 

By the author : There was a general belief that Mrs. Sher« 
idan had written the Epilogue. Her sister wrote her : " It's 
true, indeed ; you must not contradict me when I say you wrote 
the much admired epilogue of The Rivals " (Rae's Life, i, 285). 
The statement even found its way into the press: "We hear 
that the admired Epilogue to the Rivals is the composition of 
Mrs. Sheridan. There is a delicacy in the thoughts and in the 
expressions of this poem, that claim the warmest approbation, 
and leave us in doubt which we shall most applaud, Mrs. Sheri- 
dan's excellence in music, or in poetry." — The Morning Post s 
Jan. 28, 1775. 



128 THE RIVALS 

4 One moral's plain — cried I — without more fuss ; 

Man's social happiness all rests on Us — 

Thro' all the Drama — whether d — n'd or not — t 

Love gilds the Scene, and Women guide the plot. 

From ev'ry rank — obedience is our due — 

D'ye doubt ? — The world's great stage shall prove it true** 

The Cit — well skill'd to shun domestic strife — 
Will sup abroad ; — but first — he'll ask his wife : 10 
John Trot, his friend — for once, will do the same, 
But then — he'll just step home to tell my dame. — 

The surly ''Squire — at noon resolves to rule, 
And half the day — zounds ! Madam is a fool ! 
Convinc'd at night — the vanquish'd Victor says, 15 
Ah ! Kate ! you women have such coaxing ways ! — 

The jolly Toper chides each tardy blade, — 
Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid : 
Then with each Toast, he sees fair bumpers swim, 
And kisses Chloe on the sparkling Brim! 20 

Nay, I have heard that Statesmen — great and wise — 
Will sometimes counsel with a Lady's eyes ; 
The servile suitors — watch her various face, 
She smiles preferment — or she frowns disgrace, 
Curtsies a pension here — there nods a place. J 25 

Nor with less awe, in scenes of humbler life, 
Is viewed the mistress, or is heard the wife. 
The poorest Peasant of the poorest soil, 
The child of Poverty, and heir to Toil — 
Early from radiant Love's impartial light, 30 

Steals one small spark, to cheer his world of night : 
Dear spark ! — that oft thro' winter's chilling woes, 
Is ail the warmth his little cottage knows ! 

9. Cit : an abbreviation for " citizen," slightly contemptuous. 



THE KIVALS 129 

The wand'ring Tar — who not for years has press'd 
The widow'd Partner of his day of rest — 35 

On the cold deck — far from her arms remov'd — 
Still hums the ditty which his Susan lov'd : 
And while around the cadence rude is blown, 
The Boatswain whistles in a softer tone. 

The Soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil, 40 
Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile ; 
But ere the battle should he list' her cries, 
The Lover trembles — and the Hero dies ! 
That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear, 
Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear ! 45 

But Ye more cautious — ye nice judging few, 
Who give to Beauty only Beauty's due, 
Tho' friends to Love — Ye view with deep regret 
Our conquests marr'd — our triumphs incomplete, 
'Till polish'd Wit more lasting charms disclose, 50 
And Judgment fix the darts which Beauty throws ! 
— In female breasts did Sense and Merit rule, 
The Lover's mind would ask no other school ; 
Sham'd into sense — the Scholars of our eyes, 
Our Beaux from Gallantry would soon be wise ; 55 
Would gladly light, their homage to improve, 
The Lamp of Knowledge at the Torch of Love ! 



TEXTUAL NOTES 

The present text has been made to vary from the reading of the 
first edition in the following instances : 

i. 1. 109 : of the for of they. 

i. 2. 1 : traversed for transferr'd ; corrected in the third edi- 
tion. 

ii. 1. 11 : forget for forgot ; corrected in the third edition. 

ii. 1. 344 : Acres for Abs. 

iii. 1. 1, 12 : There are no catchwords in the first edition. 

iii. 1. 100 : Abs. for Sir Anth. 

iii. 1. 114 : regimentals for regiment ; corrected in the list of 
errata, 

ih\ 1. 117 : Languish for Anguish ; corrected in the list of er» 
rata. 

iii. 3. 15 : becomes for become ; corrected in the third edition. 

iii. 3. 62 : There is no catchword in the first edition. 

iii. 3. 82 : Sure for Save ; corrected in the third edition. 

iii. 3. 97 : doors for floors ; the reading of the third edition. 

iii. 4 : The first edition numbers this " Scene V." 

iii. 4. 57 : fall for falls ; corrected in the third edition. 

iv. 3 : The first edition numbers this " Scene IV. " 

r. 1. 1 : There is no catchword in the first edition. 

v. 1. 280 : feeling for e eling. 

V. 3. 64 : clean for clear ; as indicated by line 66 9 and as cor 
rected by the third edition. 

v. 3. 90 : edge for hedge ; corrected in the third edition. 

v. 3. 160 : any thing for any ; corrected in the third edition. 

v. 3. 319 : Faulkland for Jack ; obviously a misprint. 

v. 3. 325 : unalloy'd for unallay'd. 

Epilogue : In the original editions the Epilogue is printed after 
the Prologue. 

The following stage-directions have been added : 
Prologue, 11. 2 ; 28. 

ii. 2. 91 ; iii. 1. 80 ; iii. 3. 118, 156, 207, 210, 213, 217, 219, 221 $ 
iii. 4. 138, 141, 147, 150 ; iv. 2. 95, 183 ; v. 3. 275, 334. 



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